When the dam breaks
by TheWhispersWhichFlowGrey
Summary: This is a story in which Merlin goes slightly off his happy-go-lucky canon self, and finally breaks. The stress and pressure catch up with him after a particularly horrible week and a disastrous hunting trip... Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

******DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains.**

**Hey guys. I haven't posted anything in a while... Ok, that was the understatement of the century. I know and I'm ashamed to say that I have let this account sleep for what was it? two, three years? I just didn't feel like Fanfiction anymore, you know? Stuff happened, school got in the way, I floated away from the stories...**

**But for almost a year and a half now I've gotten back into my habit of reading fanfics so, after all this time, I decided I should make a proper comeback and write one for myself.**

**It was supposed to be a one shot but yeah, things got a little bit out of hand. Anyway, now I'm into Merlin so this is probably all that I'll be writing for a long time.**

**Before I finish, I just wanted to apologize for not finishing my other story. I promise I will try: it's the best I can do.**

**Without further ado, I hope you'll enjoy this as much as I have when I wrote it.**

* * *

It was official. It was the worst, the very, very worst day of his entire life. He couldn't possibly put into words how extremely horrible and impossibly awful that day had been.

Actually, if he were to be honest, that day hadn't been particularly bad. It was the usual hunting trip routine: ride out into the forest with a pack of overzealous, annoying knights (for whom the idea of fun could be described by shooting arrows at random animals), make camp, sleep, wake up, hunt again, be attacked by bandits, fight off said bandits and then return home.

No, if he were to be completely honest with himself, things had been adding up to this moment for several days.

First, he miraculously seemed to have caught a cold. Or maybe it was an allergy, who knows? Point was, for the last couple of days he appeared to be sneezing every five minutes and his movements were slow and sluggish, not to mention that he couldn't stomach almost any form of solid food and his magic kept doing some kind of somersaults inside of him.

One time, two days ago, he had been helping Gaius prepare some strength enhancing medicine for Arthur's knights. They had been at it for hours and finally had enough of the little bottles filled with red liquid, when he sneezed.

And all of the precious bottles of medicine blew up.

Of course, he had had to spend that night remaking them all.

The prince himself had been in a bad mood and had pushed Merlin this way and that and never seemed to be content with what he had done. He was always either late, or what he did wasn't good enough, or he had forgotten something and so and so. His weakened state did not help any, either.

Oh, and let's not forget Agravaine. God, he was this close to sneaking into his chambers and plating some form of deadly poison, or just simply disguising as a thief or something and ending it once and for all. The man was an annoying, sneaky little bastard. He had seen him slipping into the woods every night and he was sure he was seeing Morgana. He had waited for the man every time and once Agravaine returned with some kind of bag that was practically reeking off magic.

And worst even than the very bad and frustrating feeling of not being able to figure out what the two were planning was the fact that he could do anything about it, short of killing the man. (Which, honestly, wasn't his style.) He couldn't warn Artur or the knights, and Gaius had swatted the news away, telling him not to worry because there was nothing they could do for now.

As such, he had actually looked forward to this little hunting trip. He could go out into the woods for a couple of days, away from his duties both as the prince's manservant, Gaius' pupil and his destiny. Away from plotting little uncles and oblivious kings.

Yeah, he had to put up with the bunch of arrogant knights, but they were his knights, the 'knights of the round table'. (As he had taken to calling them after Morgana's whole take-Camelot-over thing.)

Plus, Arthur was always in a good mood during these trips and he could finally feel useful again when he'd save all of their asses from the bandits (without anyone noticing, of course) that would undoubtedly come.

His good mood couldn't be shaken even by his sneezing and the magic doing flip-flops in the pit of his stomach, or anything, really.

And then it happened.

They had set out at dawn, as usual. Ridden deep into the forest. Started hunting. Night had fallen. They camped, slept, woke up and resumed the hunting.

He remained at the rear, content to just let the knights crawl through the trees, shooting at rabbits and deers.

He was enjoying the warmth of the sun that kept escaping through the canopy above, the gentle rustle of the wind, the sound of birds singing, Gwaine blabbering now and then under his breath about princesses (and Arthur shutting him up in the same manner) and all that.

Of course bandits attacked them. Of course they fought it off. Of course he helped.

What didn't usually happen was the arrow that had planted itself in his thigh.

They all nursed him (a bunch of mother hens, all of them, but he wasn't going to complain now) and set out towards Camelot, but they were too far away and night had caught up with them, so they had to camp. And, of course, they didn't have any game, having been too busy fighting bandits and getting Merlin back to Camelot to hunt.

As a result, he had fallen asleep shivering from a low fever, his leg on fire and his stomach empty and rumbling.

He woke up with a start after a particularly brutal nightmare. He had been tossing and turning for the most part of the night and when he finally managed to settle, it was only to these nightmares.

Merlin felt his throat dry and he hurt all over, but the pain was especially vicious in his right leg. He felt cold and hot at the same time and though he wanted to open his eyes and locate the water skin, he just couldn't find it in him to move.

After a while, however, he couldn't put up with it anymore, so he slowly opened his eyes. When he only met darkness, the boy realized it was still night. He couldn't have slept too much.

The fire was out already, so he could barely see his own hands, but he shakily stood up, gripping the hems of the blanket and trying to wrap it tighter around his prone form. His fingers closed around air.

Where the hell was his bloody blanket?

He grit his teeth to stop them from clattering. God, it was cold. And he was tired. And he hurt. And he couldn't see a thing, which could put a real damper on him locating the water skin.

Wait. Come to think of it, why was the fire out? Wasn't one of the knights supposed to keep watch and tend to the fire?

A feeling of dread washed over him, settling into his stomach. Something was wrong.

Then, he thought bitterly, of course something was wrong. Now of all times something just had to go wrong, didn't it?

"Arthur?" he tried, but his voice felt hoarse and too low even to his ears. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Arthur"

"Gwaine"

He could feel annoyance creeping on him now.

"Guys!"

No answer. Great.

Thinking it couldn't possibly get any worse, as they were either asleep or not there, he whispered "Leoht" under his breath, and a sphere of soft light formed in his right hand. The warlock shut his eyes, then opened them slowly and waited for them to adjust.

A white glow settled over the remains of the fire, around which lay scattered haphazardly blankets and swords.

"Amazing" Merlin muttered. If the imprints on the ground that even he couldn't miss didn't give it away, then the state of their belongings (a couple of bloody swords, blankets ripped apart, bags emptied of their contents) were clear signs that there had been a fight. Apparently, he had slept through that.

Then again, he couldn't see any bodies, so that had to mean his friends were still alive. And if that was the case (and Merlin would've bet his life that was the case) where the hell were they? There was only one answer his mind would give to the question, and he didn't like it one bit: his friends had been kidnapped.

Yet he was still there. But why? Why wasn't he dead? Did whoever did this think he was already a goner and they needn't bother with him? Or he simply hadn't been deemed enough of a threat to go through the trouble of dealing with him? That, Merlin had to admit, stung his pride a bit. He surely couldn't look that bad. Right?

He sighed and gave to stand up. Which ended up with him back on the ground when his vision went black and he felt his whole body light up with pain.

His sphere of light had also died out when he collapsed, leaving him once again in complete darkness.

Merlin swore and lighted the sphere again, uttering a few extra words to make it float next to him as he gave standing up another try.

After two more failed attempts, a lot of cursing and tears of pain stinging his eyes, the boy looked around for something he could use to support himself, seeing as his leg couldn't be trusted.

Finally, he settled for Gwaine's (at least he thought it was; it didn't really matter) sword. He reached with his hand and felt his eyes burn gold as his magic made the blade fly graciously through the air, before slipping right into his ready fingers. He then planted it firmly into the soft ground and pushed himself up into a crouched position.

The young warlock kept his weight solely on his left foot while he regained his breath.

If standing up had all but exhausted him, how on Earth was he going to find and save his friends?

* * *

**That's it. For now. Tell me what you think?**

**Don't worry, I have the next chapter(s) already written, I just have to check them. I might post chapter two this very evening if I can polish it in time.**

**Thank you for reading and see you in a bit^^ **


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains. **

**Hey, there. Again. As I promised, here's the next chapter. I probably will be able to update tomorrow, Thursday at worst. Anyway, hope you'll like it. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

Arthur had had better days. He was sure of it.

He opened his eyes to a throbbing pain at the back of his head that blinded him temporarily and made him close them again. Stubborn as he was, he then proceeded to have another go at opening his damned eyes and was rewarded with a very blurred image of what he supposed was a fire, as well as several figures moving around it.

As the pain in his head continued to, in turn, stubbornly increase, he commanded his hand to raise and feel what the heck was happening up there, because he could also feel something wet at the back of his head.

That's when he felt the ropes digging into his arms.

His first instinct was to struggle against them, but the memories now came flooding back all at once and he tightened his jaw against the pain and resisted the urge to move. It was better if they thought him still unconscious; his years of training and previous experience had taught him as much.

Finally, his vision cleared, but he now had his eyes half closed, so as not to raise suspicion.

He could make out the ugly face of the man who he presumed was the leader, dressed in that long leather coat that was brushing the ground. His two big thugs still flanked him, following him as he paced lightly, though there was no immediate danger at hand that Arthur could see. His other men, all skinny and dirty, were sprawled a safe distance away from their leader.

How had they lost to such pitiful creatures? Oh that's right, Arthur reminded himself, glancing across the camp at a tree where the very big, very scary foul creatures were tied. Of course.

They weren't talking, so he had no way of finding out anything about their plans, but he could see the leader had his back to them and the others weren't really paying any attention to him, so he risked moving his head a little to the right.

Arthur suppressed a hiss of pain, but relief washed over him (well, _some_ relief, that is) when he saw Gwaine's eyes glancing back into his own. He, Percival, Sir Leon and Elyan were all tied to the tree next to his, so he supposed he was the only one who got a tree all to himself. Great.

They were all awake. That meant he was the last. Again, great.

"Welcome back, princess." Gwaine whispered, smirking, but his gray brown orbs didn't hold any trace of the amusement of his grin.

Arthur glanced back at the camp and, to his relief, saw the leader _petting_ (he suppressed the repulsion he felt) the two wyverns.

He hated dragons, all kinds of dragons, and in his book, wyverns still counted as dragons. He had only met such creatures twice in his life: once when he had gone to the Perilous Lands, and the second time at the Isle of the Blessed, when he was supposed to sacrifice himself to save Camelot. How he had survived them he didn't know, but he honestly believed having met their kind only those two times was enough for a lifetime, thank you very much.

It seemed, though, that the universe had other plans.

He moved his attention back to Gwaine and the others. They all looked a bit ruffled: a few scratches here, a black eye there, but nothing too serious. Which reminded him there was still one friend whom this monsters had left back at the camp, thinking he would die anyway. They would've fed him to the wyverns, but then the leader said something about feeding his pets only quality food and that's when his memory went blank. His stomach tied into a knot at the memory of his dying friend.

How were they going to get out of this one?

"Are you hurt?" he mouthed to his friends, although he knew the answer.

"We need a plan" Gwaine answered, deciding to ignore the prince's question and state the obvious instead.

Arthur refrained from shouting that he knew that. "And we've got to help Merlin"

This time, Arthur couldn't contain it. "I _know_, _Gwa_ine. Any other useful pointers?"

"Well, well, well..." drawled a mocking voice from the general direction of the camp and Arthur suddenly realized the bandits had all gone quiet. So much for feigning unconsciousness. "Look who's awake..."

* * *

He had been shuffling randomly through the forest, dragging his body by sheer force of will, cursing and feeding his growing anger for fifteen minutes now. He thought, at least, that there had been fifteen minutes.

He was about to damn it all and collapse when he saw the orange light through the trees.

A fire. Finally!

He started limping with renewed vigor, ignoring the branches that were leaving small red lines all across his arms and, just occasionally, face. He was already full of scratches, anyway.

When the fire finally came into sight, he pulled his own light out and sneaked as close to the camp and as best as he could in his condition.

Somehow, he managed to make it to a large bush just outside the small clearing without being noticed. Merlin stopped to asses the situation.

He could see a fire was lit in the middle of the camp, around which seven-no, make it eight lanky, dirty bandits were sprawled, gnawing at the bones of some unfortunate animal. Probably the leftovers of whoever was in charge, he thought bitterly, sympathizing for a moment. And then the moment was gone.

Opposite them, on the other side of the flames, stood a tall man with broad shoulders, a very ugly face and a small black beard. He was dressed in some kind of long leather coat and had two swords at his belt, one of which, Merlin noticed none to happily, was Arthur's. He would recognize that sword anywhere. Oh, all the times he had to sharpen that blade...

Merlin shook himself and continued to observe the camp. To his right, some distance away, were none other than his friends.

The knights were all tied up to two trees: Gwaine, Percival, Elyan and Sir Leon to one and Arthur to another.

Also, they were all awake and no doubt trying to come up with a way out of their current, rather unfortunate situation, thing which all these thugs hadn't noticed yet. Thank the Lord for small miracles.

A low growling sound stopped him dead in his tracks just as he was preparing to sneak around the camp and cut his friends loose.

Dread filled his stomach and he turned his head slowly towards the sound. He blinked a couple of times. It couldn't be. But how?

Thick iron chains which wrapped around the necks of the two wyverns kept them linked to a particularly large tree. Wyverns. Red-eyes, black-scaled, mini-dragon kind of wyverns.

Merlin was gaping at the creatures. How on earth had these guys managed to chain wyverns? And what were they doing with them anyway? Were they selling them? Were they...?

The boy's blue eyes grew wide as saucers. The leather-guy (who was clearly the leader, judging by the way he held himself, the prince's sword at his waist and the two huge thugs flanking him on each side) approached the wyverns and started _petting_ them. And the wyverns shrank back at his approach. _Shrank_ back.

Even now, as he was clearly muttering something and enjoying himself as he stroked the beasts' scaled heads, the animals were wary and tense.

Clearly he was seeing things. This man couldn't have tamed wyverns, could he?

Merlin then felt his anger back with a vengeance when he noticed the whip at his waist and the dull, old scars on the wyverns' backs. So that was how.

Wyverns weren't dragons, but he was still a dragonlord, those were still magical creatures and even if none of the above were true, they still were living, breathing beings that did not deserve to be whipped, starved or whatever other means this man had probably used to tame them.

Merlin shook himself out of his stupor. He had to focus.

The young warlock had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming when he tried to move. He had gotten used to the pain while he had limped through the forest, but now that he had stood still for so long, his leg felt like it was being ripped apart. Suddenly, he felt very, very tired.

And very, very stupid. And very, very angry. For that moment the sick bastard of a leader had noticed Arthur and the others were awake. There was no way he could sneak up and release them now. He had missed his only chance.

'_Good job, Merlin. Good job._' he thought bitterly.

He could do nothing but watch now as the man tormented his friends. He tuned out for a moment as his brain desperately tried to work its way around the obstacles the world kept dumping in front of him, but he came to right in time to hear the leader say: "Maybe I should start with this one, shouldn't I? Maybe this will chance your mind, your _highness_"

His attention now completely focused on the event unfolding before him, Merlin watched as the man signaled his thugs and the two bald hulks released Gwaine and yanked him to his feet. They held the knight's hands firmly behind his back, even as he struggled helplessly against them.

Arthur had now very much lost all his composure, his eyes both desperate and angry.

"No, you can't do this! You can't do this, you sadistic coward! Why don't you just fight me like a man!"

The young prince was thrashing against the ropes that held him, but they were too strong. Merlin had rarely seen his friend so angry, shaking with such blind rage. He could only assume that Gwaine was going to die.

He looked at Gwaine. His friend's jaw was clenched and he glared at the bearded man with such hatred, if looks could kill he would've burst into flames then and there.

And then Merlin felt the same anger rise inside him as he watched the two thugs start dragging Gwaine towards the wyverns. Te beasts seemed now anxious, having stood up and started pacing the small space their chains allowed.

He wouldn't feed him to the beasts, right? Because there was nothing he could do then, right?

Merlin felt sweat trickling down his forehead and he shivered, but he didn't know if it was due to the fever, the pain, or the anger.

He looked desperately across the camp for something, anything. He couldn't let Gwaine die, not now, not like this, not ever!

Wait. If he couldn't stop Gwaine from being dragged to the wyverns then maybe, maybe he could get the wyverns away. But it was madness. And it was risky. This plan could so easily turn against him.

He pulled at his magic and felt it burn behind his eyes as he muttered some words in the Old Language.

Chaos erupted. Chaos stopped.

Merlin had barely blinked.

He had broken the chains. The wyverns had taken one second to realize that and then leapt at the bandits closest to them. Then the leader took a step closer, shouted at them to halt, and pulled out his whip.

The wyverns cowered into the tree behind them.

Merlin couldn't believe this was happening.

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**There you go. As always, I hope you like it. If you want to, your opinions would be very appreciated:) **

**Also, I would like to give all my thanks to all of those who have reviewed or favored/followed this story, as well as those who haven't. **

**Thank you very much sarajm, freshly caught Cornish pixies, Saellyra of Mirkwood, trueviolet1216, natcel, safijo and FlYiNgPiGlEtS. It is for you guys that I do this and as long as there's one person reading, I will keep going. **

**See you all later^^ **


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains. **

**Hello there. I'm extremely happy I managed to squeeze this chapter in this evening. I really thought I wasn't going to have the time. (Actually, I didn't have the time. But you know what they say, if you don't have time make some. So I just dumped my math homework halfway and started polishing this) **

**I really hope you like it. :) Tell me what you think? **

**Oh, and if there are any spelling mistakes just let me know and I'll correct them-it's late and I can barely keep my eyes open. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Well. In hindsight, he probably should've seen this coming. The day had not been one of his luckiest, so yeah, he shouldn't have been surprised of such a turn of events.

The wyverns leapt high into the air, jaws open to reveal sets of surprisingly white and very sharp teeth. And then the leader (he was really starting to brew a deep hatred for that man) took a couple of long steps and came to a halt right next to his increasingly panicked hoard of bandits, shouting "Halt" at the top of his lungs, his voice demanding. And, as luck his luck went, the creatures shrank back and started emitted these pitiful whimpers from somewhere deep within their throats.

The thing that perked Merlin's attention and momentarily subsided his anger (and shock) was, however, the fact that he could've sworn he had seen the pendant at the man's neck (a huge, ruby pendant encased in gold which he had somehow failed to notice until this moment) glow red for a second. The boy glared at said stone.

It was faint now, but he could still sense the trace of the magic that had just been used.

But it didn't make sense. Why did the wyverns have all those flogging lines scarring their backs if the man had an alternative means of controlling them? The thought made him sick to his stomach for a second, before he realized that no, that couldn't be it. If he had been able to control them, then surely the winged creatures wouldn't have been chained to that tree. So the ruby must simply hold them off, scare them, repel them.

Merlin felt the pain in his head rise up a notch or two. His leg was also burning and throbbing, and he now realized he had gripped the sword so tightly the pattern on the hilt had been engraved into his palm.

He had no time to further contemplate anything as the leader spoke again.

The boy also noticed the bodyguards were still restraining Gwaine. The man was very brave, but even though his eyes were hard, his jaw set and his head held high, his skin was a bit paler. Apparently he could see no way out of this, either.

"Kill him already" the leather-clad man ordered in an annoyed tone, which really ticked the young warlock off.

"Wait" he suddenly changed his mind, raising a hand to stroke his beard, his fingers covered in golden rings. He viewed the other knights contemplatively. "Let's not waste any more time." he decided. "Just let my pets kill them all"

Two things happened at once: the bandits got a move on, going to obey their leader's command, and Arthur started thrashing harder than ever, his eyes wild. "NO"

The leader's minions paid him no attention as they dragger Sir Leon, Sir Percival and Sir Elyan away, ready to join Gwaine.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS"

"You will find, little prince, that I can" he grinned a set of ugly and black teeth, then turned to one of the men holding Gwaine. "Oh and Bruce? I will hold you responsible if my dragons eat any of them. It will ruin their diet"

"They're not dragons"

* * *

Gwaine saw no way out of this. He was usually very good at producing ways to get out of disasters, as he had found himself in a couple of rather unpleasant situations before, but not now.

Their situation was bordering on desperate.

He could not get out of the grip of these two twits. Elyan, Leon and Percival didn't seem to be able to escape either, even though their captives were skinny and, had they had their weapons, they would've slaughtered them. But they were outnumbered by the little bastards.

Arthur was in the same situation, only his death wasn't so imminent.

It seemed the incredible luck they had always seemed to have until now had all but disappeared.

Gwaine felt anger like never before when he heard the man ramble about the diet of his little pet dragons. If only he were free, he'd show that sadistic, annoying little bitch what diet really meant.

"They're not dragons" a strong, familiar voice rang through the woods. Gwaine knew that voice. But it couldn't be. He wouldn't be that stupid, would he?

The man was not sure which emotion would win: shock, annoyance, concern or relief as his (and everyone's gazes) looked around, searching for the source of the voice.

Soon enough, a figure shuffled out of the trees.

Finally, all Gwaine was able to think as his eyes landed on the thin form of his first and best friend limping into the light and placing himself in front of all of them, leaning on a sword (his sword!) so as not to further injure his right leg, was that he was glad somebody else had noticed the creatures were not dragons.

* * *

It was a sight, indeed. A pitiful one, but a sight nonetheless.

The thin, lanky manservant stood there, in the light of the fire. His face was white as a sheet and covered in scratches and dirt, as were his arms. He had huge, purple rings under his bloodshot eyes, his clothes sort of hanging on him, his right upper tight wrapped in a bloody bandage. Merlin was also shaking slightly and leaning onto Gwaine's sword for support, but his blue orbs held and intensity the likes of which Arthur had never seen before.

"What?" the leader asked, his grin a mix of incredulity and amusement.

The raven-haired boy looked him straight in the eye and repeated his words, his voice loud and clear.

"I said, they are not dragons."

"Really?" The others started laughing. The prince stole a glance at Gwaine and the others. They had the same look of shock and worry he himself must've had on his face at the moment. (Although he would deny that 'worry' bit on the pain of death)

The bearded man regarded the Arthur's manservant with a kind of disbelief bordering on annoyance. Finally, annoyance seeming to have won, he threw a knowing look atone of his personal bodyguards. (Or whatever)

One of the two nodded and momentarily let Gwaine in the care of his (probably) brother, yanking the chains still attached to the necks of the dark-scaled creatures and handing them to his master, then returning to his spot.

The wyverns stood as far away from the man as the chains aloud them to, and Arthur could not understand why. He thought he caught a glimpse of something red glowing on the leader, but his attention had been on the beasts, so he couldn't be sure. The young prince shrugged it off.

"Then enlighten me, _boy_. What do you think my beautiful creatures are, in you expert opinion?" He was glaring now, even as some of the bandits still laughed at his words.

All eyes were on the trembling manservant.

"They are wyverns. And they're not your _pets_." Merlin spat the last word. Arthur didn't think he had in in him. (He was a bit proud, actually.) "They are living, breathing creatures and they belong to no one. As a matter of fact, neither do the man you've captured."

"You're wasting my time, boy" the leader hissed, obviously not finding this amusing any more. The bandits didn't laugh this time. The only sounds that could be heard were the wyverns' constant shifting.

Merlin hissed in return. "I give you one chance: let Arthur and the others go."

Arthur blinked. what was Merlin up to now? He surely couldn't hope to defeat all of these men _and _two wyverns, could he? The idiot could barely stand!

Apparently, judging by the bark-laughter the man gave, he didn't think Merlin posed a threat either. He fixed the boy with a look that said just how much he thought of him.

"You are a waste of my time. I might've let you go, you know. A pity." He yanked on the chains a little, making the wyverns fidget anxiously, as if knowing what was going to come next. "But then again, not really."

Merlin glowered at him.

"Kill him"

The man let the chains go and the two creatures jumped, their fangs aiming at the head of the unmoving servant.

Arthur's shout died in his throat.

* * *

**There you go, I hope you liked it. And see, I even put a little cliffhanger there:) **

**Tell me what you think? **

**Again, thank you for all the reviews. Thank you all for reading this. I'll update either tomorrow or Friday and I bid you all a good night. **

**See ya! **


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains. **

**Hello there. How are you doing this marvelous night?**

**I'm so sorry I didn't update last night-I was thoroughly exhausted. Anyway, I know you're all waiting for the chapter so I'm not going to take long, just let me tell you that I honestly hope with all my heart that you will take as much pleasure from reading this as I have writing it. This is, actually, the scene that inspired this story. This scene was supposed to _be_ the story. **

**I just hope you like it. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

"Nun de ge dei s'eikein kai emois epe'essin hepesthai!" Merlin's eyes burned golden for a second after the sounds that were more animal than human escaped from his throat.

Everyone watched in stunned shock as the two wyverns immediately stopped, backed away a few steps, and then bowed, _bowed_, to the still shaking boy.

Merlin was past caring. He couldn't care less that Arthur had seen him talk in Dragon tongue, he couldn't care less that the knights had seen his eyes glowing with the golden magic that was forbidden in the land. All he knew was that he hurt, oh, he hurt so much, he was tired, he could barely stand, he hated the leader of this pitiful pack of bandits before him who had not only captured and planned to kill his friends, but had also tortured two living creatures that, technically, were his responsibility as a dragonlord.

Also, he had had enough the past days. Enough of destiny and chores and sneezing and everything.

To top it all, the bloody hilt was starting to cut into his skin. He just wanted this over with.

"I told you they were wyverns, not dragons." he begun, his voice low but rising with too much contained emotion. "I told you to let them go, but no! No, why should you let innocent people go, huh? Why should you do what's right for once in your life? Why should my life be fair or easy for once?"

He was shouting now, not sure at whom his anger was directed at, but he didn't stop to think about it. He couldn't. He just let it all go.

"Why can't you just stop attacking Camelot? Everyooone attacks Camelot. Everyone wants to kill Arthur. Everyone wants to take over the throne. What else is new? And of course, who else has to save the other side of the coin but me? And all he ever does is booooss me around: 'Merlin do this, Merlin do that, Not like this! Merlin you're such and idiot, you can do anything rigHT!"

Merlin took a shaky breath in, but he wasn't done yet. The dam had been broken and now all the water was flowing down in a huge wave.

"Help Gaius, obey Arthur, save Arthur, protect Camelot, save the king, oh and don't forget to keep it all a secret shall we?" his voice was bitter now. "Because it's so easy to do that."

He gazed at the crowd before him, not really seeing them. Then something lit up again in his eyes and he shouted with renewed vigor, limping around a bit and swinging his sword at the wyverns. It looked like he was talking to them more than anyone. He certainly was looking at them.

"And that stupid dragon. 'You must heed my words, young warlock, heed my words.' I'll heed your words all right. I'll heed you this!"

He slammed the sword into the ground and the wyverns before him flinched back a bit, but maintained their position.

Merlin was panting heavily now, staring at the ground. Drained didn't even begin to describe how he felt. Suddenly, for a split of a second and for reasons he could not begin to fathom, the ghost of a wish that Freya was there flashed across his heart.

Shaking the thought away, he raised his gaze and finally saw the different degrees of shock that were staring back at him.

He straightened a little, his eyes flickering golden for just a second and all the bandits, with the exception of those restraining the knights and the leader, were thrown back by and invisible force.

They hit the ground and did not move again. Everyone who was still standing remained silent. Merlin could see Gwaine starting to grin as he craned his neck to observe all the now unconscious men. They had been all knocked out in the blink of an eye by a skinny, lanky, injured boy who could barely stand.

The leader took a small step back, finally realizing that the tides might have turned a bit, and not in his favor.

"Look, I'm sure we can settle this the-"

Merlin cut him off. "Leave us" he said, staring at the only minions left standing, who were still clutching the knights, but it looked like they were cowering behind them more than restraining them.

The men took a second to comprehend what was happening, then scrambled off faster than the eye could see, leaving the knights free. Sir Percival, Elyan and Leon, however, remained unmoved, still in shock.

Merlin glared at the thugs who were still restraining Gwaine, if a bit uncertain of themselves and their current position.

"I told you to go"

The two men glanced hesitantly at their master's back. However, the young warlock did not have the patience to put up with this.

His eyes glowed again as he raised his hand toward them and the two men were both sent flying back in the same manner as the others, safe for the knocking out. Merlin didn't want to hurt Gwaine, who was also sent back with the two, and could only hope he hadn't already.

The two giant men, too, scrambled up to their feet and made a run for it, while the knight remained on the ground, grinning a bit.

The leader seemed to finally realize there was nothing there for him and tried to run, but Merlin started uttering a string of words in the Old tongue and the man was raised high above the ground by his feet, his leather coat hanging upside down over his head.

Another set of words and the ropes tying Arthur suddenly decided they would be better off untied.

Then, they moved through the air and wrapped themselves around the upturned form of the ex-leader instead, who proceeded to scream as he was turned around in the right position and dumped beside a tree.

Merlin then turned to the wyverns, who were still standing at attention.

"Hun ter's kei reiki non h'kass"

The two dragon-related creatures moved to stand on either side of the man tied to the tree, who immediately started panicking.

"Wha-what? No, wait what did you tell them to do? Tell them to go away! Make them-"

"_Anasilan_" announced Merlin, and though the man was still moving his mouth, no sounds came out. Silence settled over the woods.

The boy hopped on one leg to Gwaine, while the rest of the knights backed away a couple of steps unconsciously. Merlin ignored them and handed Gwaine the sword, instead.

"I had to burrow yours, I'm sorry. All the other weapons are still at our camp"

The man looked at the proffered sword, still grinning, then took it and nodded, not knowing what else to say.

Then he changed his mind. "Merlin-"

The boy was, however, already with his back to him.

He hopped a little closer to the fire and then let himself fall unceremoniously to the ground, groaning.

"_Forbearnan_"

The fire suddenly grew, the flames shedding a warm light onto his prone form.

He then looked around him, searching for a blanket.

He reached with his arm in the general direction of the blanked that must have belonged to the leader, for it was the most warm-looking out there, and said item suddenly swished through the air and right into his hand.

Merlin made himself comfortable and closed his eyes. The last thing he said was: "You can execute me in the morning" before he fell into a deep sleep among the unconscious forms of the bandits and the still shocked knights.

* * *

**This chapter was fairly short, I know, but I promise the next are going to be longer. **

**Also, I have to confess that the part when Merlin orders the wyverns to go and guard the unnamed villain of mine is just a whole lot of rubbish I made up on the spot-I couldn't find anything in genuine dragon tongue from the show that said what I wanted him to say. The rest, however, are real spells. **

**With the exception of '_Anasilan_', which wasn't actually in the show, but it's in old English so I figured it should be fine. **

**Again, the review from the last chapter was made from my account but NOT by myself, okay? Don't laugh. **

**Thank you for reading this and I will, as usual, update either tomorrow or the day after that. No later. **

**See you all soon with Arthur's reaction to all of these^^ **


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains. **

**Hello everyone. How are you? I'm glad you all liked the last chapter and enjoyed our little warlock's outburst as much as I did. I'm really happy you liked it. **

**Without further ado, here is the next chapter. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

He could hear the fire crackling as the flames swept up, higher and higher towards the sky. There was no trace of even the slightest breeze. All the sounds of the forest seemed to have taken a break.

It wasn't the silence that usually came just before something terrible was about to happen. It wasn't the quiet that was only usually followed by an ambush. No, this felt more like a... breather of some kind. Like the trees itself had finally had too much and were now resting, finally able to breathe freely.

Arthur watched the flames dance. His hair gleamed golden in the firelight, his skin felt warm. He was resting his chin on his locked fist and his elbow on his right knee, his left leg stretched out before him.

He was the very definition of relaxed.

Al least that's what he looked like, contemplating the movements of the flames, surrounded by the trees at the very last hours before dawn.

But if anyone were to look at his blue orbs, zoom in to those sky-blue irises, they would see the light of the fire sparkling on the surface of thick ice.

The leaves of a bush somewhere behind him rustled, but the prince did not move. He knew it was Gwaine.

Sure enough, the knight's figure came into view as he dumped an armful of dried branches and twigs next to the slowly dying fire. The other man wiped his forehead and glanced somewhere to Arthur's left with an impossible to read mix of emotions on his face.

Arthur did not move his gaze away from the fire. He knew what Gwaine was looking at. Or rather _who_ he was looking at.

After a moment, the man in question returned his gaze to his master and friend, and sighed.

"I'm gonna go get some sleep." he stated, waiting for some form of confirmation that never came.

He sighed again and turned to leave, but not without throwing a soft "As should you" over his shoulders.

And then he was gone. Arthur was alone again.

He didn't know how much time he had stood there, staring off into a fire that kept burning. He only knew that it was the only thing that could keep him away from his thoughts.

Because even though all of his knights thought he was taking his time to make a tough and complicated decision (and he didn't mind letting them think that), all he was and had been doing for the past couple of hours was to watch the flames and empty his mind of any form of coherent thought.

Finally, the man was shaken out of his stupor by the revelation that the blazing fire he had been staring at had suddenly been reduced to dying ambers.

Okay, so maybe the transition from a huge campfire to barely glowing ambers hadn't been done as suddenly as he liked to think, but right now he very much preferred to get angry at the flames for betraying him like that and throw the branches Gwaine had gathered some time ago at said offending ambers.

As the flames rose again, growing seemingly out of thin air, Arthur tried to settle back into his state of 'voidness of the mind'. (He had come up with the term himself and was quite proud of it)

However, the damage had been done.

The prince sprung to his feet and started pacing, running a hand through his blond locks and panting. A litany of muttered "Nonononononononono" could barely be heard over his steps that carried him further away from the fire and deeper into the trees.

He could feel them. He had slipped from his no-thoughts zone and could now feel the thoughts creeping back on him. Arthur didn't want to admit it, but he was panicking. He couldn't let himself think those thought! He wasn't ready. Not yet. He wasn't nearly anywhere _near_ ready.

He registered the image of a tree in the line of his vision and walked straight into it, banging his head against the hard bark and gripping the trunk like a lifeline.

Too late, the thoughts mocked him. Too late, they said.

He hugged the tree tighter.

The only thing he wanted was to somehow unknow what he now knew.

He tried redirecting his thoughts in a safer direction.

He was such a fool.

(No. Wrong way!)

How had he not noticed before?

(Turn around now, you idiot, before it's too late)

He had been living with evil sorcery in his own house and he hadn't even noticed!

(Dude. Go back. As in, now.)

His eyes were stone that he could not penetrate, his eyes were blind and his very soul cowered somewhere he could not see it, the hard line of his mouth frozen.

_"Magic is pure evil. It must be destroyed along with all its followers and everyone that consorts with them, my son"_

(Memories are no good. Not those of you father Arthur, you should know that.)

_Morgana smiled as the crown was placed on her head. A queen of stone surrounded by gold, staring upon the broken statue of the previous king._

(Stop)

_Her smile grew bigger as she smiled her harsh words with clarity, unwavering, not even a hint of regret..._

"_Stop!_" Arthur gasped and punched the tree. he could feel his knuckles stinging like hell and he knew he must have scraped his skin off.

And then, just as quickly as it came, his anger was gone. Flashings of the raven-haired man he had only admitted to himself in the dark of the night that had become his friend, his best friend, flickered across his memory.

He knew what his decision was. That he didn't question. That he _knew_. It was more of a fact, not a decision.

But that wasn't what was troubling him. No, he was plagued by the circumstances of his decision. By the fact that he was the future king of Camelot and that his people had to come first.

Arthur wished now, harder than ever, that he was an ordinary man. An anonymous peasant.

But he wasn't. Arthur forgives his best friend. Arthur trusts Merlin with his life. Arthur doesn't care. There's less than 1% chance he is wrong about Merlin, that his friend is evil. But he'll take that chance, because he is his friend and he is loyal and he _trusts_ him.

Yes, Arthur can trust him. The worst that could happen was for him to be wrong and pay with his life.

However, the question that had been keeping him awake and poisoning his sanity from the moment he had seen Merlin's eyes gleam gold was: Could Prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot, son of King Uther Pendragon of Camelot, heir to the throne of Camelot trust his manservant, and risk to pay with the lives of all of his people?

* * *

"You are a citizen of Camelot"

Gwaine jumped to his feet and turned to the man, startled.

His hand had unconsciously moved to the hilt of his sword, but he had stopped upon recognizing the owner of the voice.

"God dammit Arthur! You startled me"

"I know. I'm sorry" Gwaine looked the prince up and down, relaxing back into a casual stance.

The other man looked physically fine but for his hunched shoulders and a couple of bruises here and there-nothing too serious (not counting the injury to his head, which had been bandaged; Gwaine was sure it wasn't life-threatening). However when his eyes registered the huge rings under the prince's eyes and his blue orbs, the only thing that came to his mind was the word 'haunted'.

Gwaine had had a bit of trouble sleeping himself, that's why Arthur had found him sitting as he had been: with his back against a tree, staring out at the woods.

He was worried about Merlin like everyone else, yeah, but his worry was a bit more among the lines of _for_ the boy rather than _because_ of him.

However, he couldn't say the same thing about Arthur. The man had obviously been struggling with their 'small' problem. As far as the knight was concerned, there was no problem: Merlin was a sorcerer. So what? It wasn't like he was evil. In fact, a sorcerer on their side was very good news. Finally they had something they could wave in front of that Morgana bitch (_witch_!) and wipe that smug attitude right off her face.

But Arthur had a lot more things to take into consideration, the knight knew that. And that was what had him worried.

"You are a citizen of Camelot" the prince repeated, his tone seemingly emotionless, but Gwaine could sense the slight tremor behind the words. He knew he was treading on mined ground. What was his friend going at?

"Yeah, so?" he answered, his tone as casual as he could make it.

Arthur stared at his friend's face for a long time, so long Gwaine thought their discussion was already over. But then the prince moved his gaze away and straightened his shoulders, staring off into the trees.

"Do you feel safe?" his voice had been so low, had he not been expecting it, he might not have heard him.

The man glanced suspiciously at his leader, raising an eyebrow. While normally Arthur would've had some kind of arrogant reply to his expression, he now just softly added: "In Camelot. Do you feel safe in Camelot?"

While the knight had hoped the blond haired man would stop staring off at tree trunks, now that his blue eyes were boring with an incredible amount of intensity into his, he was beginning to regret his wish.

"Of course" he breathed, without hesitation. And it was the truth. Camelot had become his home. He felt safer there than anywhere he'd ever been, but not because the citadel was safe: if anything, it was the most dangerous place he could be, what with all the bandits, wizard, witches, kingdoms and all evil on the whole planet targeting the prince he was supposed to protect. He felt safe there because of his friends, his family. Because of Arthur, Percival, Leon, Elyan, Gwen, Gaius and Merlin.

Arthur was studying his face, to see if he had spoken the truth, but Gwaine had been as honest as he was ever going to be and stared right back at the scrutinizing gaze of the prince. After a few seconds, it seemed like whatever the other man had found there was what he had sought, for he gave a curt nod and sat down. The prince's knight followed suit.

"I want you-I _need_ you to give me an honest answer to the question I'm going to ask you" It wasn't a question.

"As honest as I can"

Gwaine thought he saw the ghost of a smile play briefly across the prince's lips, but it was gone so fast he must have imagined it.

"Would you trust a-a sorcerer? Would you trust a sorcerer, knowing that if you're wrong even one bit, everyone you care about will die?"

The knight huffed, earning him a glare from the conflicted prince. "That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"Just answer the question Gwaine." Arthur said with no infliction, but his tone felt raw, desperate.

The man in question looked straight into the prince's sky-blue eyes, taking a minute to decipher the swirl of emotions raging behind them. At the end, he decided not to listen to the future king of Camelot and ignore his question. Instead, he told him what he believed, what he thought the other man needed. And even if it proved that the other man didn't need what he was saying, it didn't really matter, because he was his friend and he was going to make him listen to whatever he thought he needed to listen before he made a decision he would regret all of his life.

"Arthur, listen to me. I trust Merlin"

"I didn't ask you that, _Sir_ Gwaine" Arthur had cut him off with the I'm-the-future-king-and-you-will-do-as-I-say voice, but Gwaine couldn't care less. He never listened to orders, anyway. Even when it looked like he did, he didn't actually do as ordered. He just merely considered the order, and if he agreed with it he followed, if not, not. It was as simple as that.

He had always taken orders more as suggestions than laws he should obey.

"Maybe. But it's what I want to tell you, and you're going to listen, because I'm only saying this once, _Arthur_. I trust Merlin with my life." He eyed the prince, and when he saw he was going to sit through his little speech, he continued. "And I also trust him with the lives of all the people I care about, and all those whom I couldn't care less about. I do that because Merlin is a friend, magic or no magic, cool powers or not. You don't seriously think he's going to turn on us all and take over the throne, do you? Because if you do, just tell me and I'll shed my uniform right now."

Brown eyes glared into blue ones. It was a glaring competition, one that, surprisingly, the prince finally lost and he let his head fall into his hands, sighing.

"It's not that simple, Gwaine. It's not a question of whether I trust him or not, because I do. The problem is that this is not just about me: I could be putting the lives of the whole kingdom in danger if we're wrong!"

"But we're not"

"You don't know that!" Arthur snapped, glaring daggers at Gwaine's head.

The silence seemed even more quiet after the prince's outburst, the leaves barely rustling as the inky night slowly started giving way to light.

The knight sighed. He stood up.

"I do know, Arthur. And so do you. Merlin could've taken the kingdom down a thousand times over the last few years. But he never did. In fact, if you think about it, I'm sure you'll come to the same conclusion I did: that he's saved you and Camelot probably more than just a couple of times."

"But what if he chooses to turn his back to us, like Morg-like my sister did? What if he becomes corrupted? What then, Gwaine?"

The brown-eyed man turned and looked the prince straight in the eye as he spoke his next words with ringing clarity.

"_I_ could switch sides. I could get in league with Morgana and betray you all. I could be the perfect assassin-I don't need any magic. I have all the information necessary about you, the castle and Camelot to bring this kingdom to its knees. And so do Elyan, Percival, Leon, Merlin, Gaius, Gwen, so does everyone you trust. Yet, you choose to trust us. We all could betray you, Arthur. You put the lives of your people in our hands every day. You trust that we won't go running to the enemy, spilling out everything we know about you. It's called friendship."

Gwaine paused and smiled at Arthur. "I'm going to try and get at least two hours of sleep."

He didn't bother telling the prince to try the same: he knew his friend wasn't going to be able to sleep. Instead, he walked away from him, giving him the space he needed.

His heart felt lighter as he closed his eyes, having said all that he had to say. Who knows, maybe some of his words would even sink in.

* * *

**Thank you for reading and I hope you liked it. This chapter was centered around Arthur's decision, and the things going on inside his head. Hopefully it wasn't boring:) **

**If you want, please don't hesitate to tell me what you think, okay? **

**I'm grateful for all of you. You are the ones who keep this story alive, so thank you. **

**Next chapter will probably be ready on Tuesday, so until then^^ **


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains. **

**Hello there. I'm a bit tired so I'll keep this short and thank you all for waiting. Also, thank you for reading:) **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

The fire crackled as the flames danced, swirling and twirling graciously towards the bricks of the fireplace, glowing with intense amber light.

There were several other candles, three to be more precise, lying in their respective brass candlesticks on the middle of the table.

A pair of gloved hands rested on the edge of the previously mentioned table, fingers entwined.

"Do you all agree?" the owner of the hand asked, his voice sharp and unwavering, making it painfully clear what he believed of those who did not agree, and what would happen to them if they did so.

A small silence stretched over the next seconds, tension rippling in the air around them as the voice awaited the others' answers to his question/demand.

Finally, a voice broke through the quiet. "Aye. You know I do"

"Good" the first voice acknowledged, then waited for the rest of the approvals, two of which came almost immediately.

"Yes"

"Of course"

Silence ensued after that, the flames trembling a little. The hands tightened their grip onto each other as they waited.

After a minute or so, a deep sigh could be heard, shortly followed by the last voice.

"It goes against all of my beliefs. However, I-I agree that these beliefs could be wrong." the voice paused, but continued after only a second, determined and strong. "I have fears about several aspects of your decision, but I agree with it. I believe in it with all my heart. My answer is yes."

And just like that, the tension dissipated, and even though the next words were spoken in the same commanding and firm voice, there was a tone of relief, even joy to the words.

"I am happy to hear that we all are on the same page on this. Do you swear on your lives, your honor, your titles and your home that everything we have discussed here, as well as the events of the previous day, will not leave this room? Do you swear you will deny all of these even in the face of the king, on the pain of death?"

At the last words, a voice huffed amusedly, but was silence by a glare.

"I swear"

"I swear"

"And I"

"Count me in"

Several beats later, the gloved hands relaxed and retreated from the table. "Good"

* * *

The sounds came first, almost instantly followed by the smell. And then he could feel the soft pressure of the blanket covering his body, the chill of the air against his face and, of course, the pain.

Almost as soon as he was conscious, Merlin wished he could go back into the darkness and oblivion of unconsciousness. He pressed his eyelids together more tightly in an attempt to block out the sharp pain in his leg and retreat back into blissful sleep.

Despite knowing fully well that falling back asleep was impossible now that he had awoken, he was determined to give it another shot. As a result of his stubbornness, the next five minutes were spent trying to tune out of awareness.

It is amazing how lying in bed and trying to sleep can exhaust you, but finally the boy decided to open his eyes, tired of standing still and all too aware of his body and surroundings.

At first, his vision was blurred, but it too soon cleared to reveal a white ceiling. Instantly, he knew he was in his room. He would recognize that ceiling anywhere.

The boy groggily tried to sit up, but his head dropped back down on the pillow like a rock after a sharp pain shot from his neck all the way down through his spine.

He drew a long breath in, knowing what he intended to do was going to hurt.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he gathered all of his strength and was able to prop himself onto his elbows into a half-sitting position. There was no one else in his room, but someone had clearly been there, for he could see a chair right next to his bed, a chair that wasn't usually there.

Merlin sighed and closed his eyes for a second. He wanted to lift the blanket and see what state his injuries (and by that he meant mostly his leg) were in, but he couldn't bring himself to move again. Plus, removing the blanket could only mean the extremely uncomfortable cold that was biting at his bare back would also reach the front of his body, thing that didn't exactly appeal to him right now.

Of course, the young warlock thought, he could lie back down any time. All it would take was releasing his elbows of the weight of his body. However, he was sure he would remain there, and he really wanted to see how bad his leg was.

As such, when the door opened and Gaius entered, giving a small sigh of relief upon seeing his ward awake, Merlin was stuck in his half-sitting, half-lying position, trying to decide whether the effort of removing the blanket was worth it or not.

His thread of thought interrupted, he glanced up at the old physician.

"You are awake" Gaius said, closing the door and sitting on the chair next to his bed.

"So it seems" he replied, his voice hoarse. Merlin then realized his throat was very, very dry.

Before he could ask, his fatherly figure produced a goblet of water seemingly out of nowhere, bringing it to his lips. The boy made and effort to support himself on just one elbow and hold the goblet with his right hand.

He gulped the contents of the brass container down faster than the old physician thought was humanly possible, then collapsed on the bed still thirsty, but feeling a bit better.

"What happened?" Gaius asked and Merlin froze, all pain forgotten.

He didn't. He couldn't. Those memories were not real. He couldn't have done that, could he?

He wasn't _that_ stupid.

The boy could feel his heart pounding in his ears and he only distantly heard Gaius say his name. Panic flared inside his chest, spreading like wild fire, plaguing his every thought.

All the memories came back to him, flooding his mind. In an instant, all he knew was panic. He had used magic. In front of Arthur. In front of Gwaine. In front of Elyan, of Percival, of Leon.

All of the knights he considered his friends had seen the proof of his betrayal, had seen him use the one thing that was truly and utterly forbidden, punishable by death.

Arthur had seen him. Use. Magic.

His thoughts couldn't get around the idea of what he had done.

The door creaked as someone entered the room, but it felt like a distant sound from a different world. He was in his own dimension now, one plagued by panic and fear.

Someone had to shout his name several times until their voice finally penetrated the veil that separated Merlin from the real world, and the warlock gazed up straight into the eyes of the very last person he wanted to see.

Arthur.

* * *

Gaius was confused, and a bit scared. He had no idea what had happened during the hunting trip, he only knew that it was bad. The knights had returned the day before, bringing with them and unconscious and injured Merlin. Of course, he immediately tended to his wounds, which were pretty severe, but thankfully not life-threatening, though the old man couldn't help but think they could have been.

After his ward was out of immediate danger and tucked safely in his room, he had taken his time to examine the knights, all of which presented small bruises, some of them (not surprisingly, Gwaine) a black eye.

Arthur had also been hit by something heavy across the back of his head. He had confirmed that he had lost consciousness, and Gaius had warned him that he probably had a concussion, but the prince was going to survive. He had stressed that last point extremely hard to Uther, who had been his usual panicky and worried self.

Of course, thoughts of Merlin's well-being hadn't even got close to the king's mind, and upon hearing Arthur's explanation of what had happened he had resumed his duties, advising (ordering) his son to get some rest.

And this is where Gaius was confused.

Before the king arrived, as he was treating the knights (having already treated Merlin and Arthur) he had, of course, asked them what had happened, now that the danger of anyone losing consciousness or dying was out of the way.

The knights had immediately gone quiet and stiff, (in Gwaine's case, shifty) and they glanced to one another quickly before seeking the prince's gaze.

Arthur himself gave them a knowing look, then recited (and he had to emphasize the word '_recited_') to him the same story he not five minutes later told the king.

_"We were ambushed by a group of bandits. They stroke at night. We managed to fight them off, but as you can see, some of us received injuries. One of them managed to shoot an arrow through Merlin's leg." _

Apparently, all the bandits were dead, and Uther congratulated his son for a job well done. (_"You have managed to prove yourself in the face of a more powerful and better armed enemy. Very well done, my son."_)

However, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were withholding something big. Apart from their shifty demeanor, he had also seen signs on some of their hands that suggested ropes had dug into their skin.

All of his suspicions were confirmed as he saw the face of his ward turn as blank as the sheets that were covering his body when he asked him what had really happened in the woods.

"Merlin?" he tried, but the raven-haired boy had clearly drifted away, his blue eyes holding the horror of a trapped deer. He tried again, this time placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Merlin?"

That's when the door creaked open and he gazed up to see the prince coming in.

"Is he awake?" Arthur asked, his eyes falling on the pale face of his manservant.

His face suddenly lit up, his expression relieved, as he rushed to the physician's side.

"Merlin? Merlin?"

He glanced at the old man, now worried. "Is he alright?"

Gaius opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He wished he knew the answer to that. "I am not sure, sire" he answered truthfully.

"_Mer_lin!" Arthur shouted, and this time said boy turned toward his voice.

And then his face completely drained of all and every color.

Gaius took this as his cue to go. Merlin would tell him everything later, but for now it seemed as if the two of them knew something he did not and had to talk about that something.

"I shall leave you with him. I have a few errands I have to run." Gaius said as he stood up, and Arthur nodded distantly, not glancing away from his friend.

The physician left the room and proceeded to do as he had told the prince, all the while reassuring himself that the two would be fine and hoping his ward hadn't done anything extremely stupid this time.

* * *

Gwaine knocked on the door of the Court Physician's quarters. He waited several seconds, and when no answer came, he pushed the door open.

"Gaius?" he asked, but realized there was no one in the crammed room to answer.

He walked past the table and shelves full of vials containing weird-colored liquids, scrolls, books and herbs, dodging chairs and books scattered across the floor, heading towards the room at the back where he had once rested, the first time he'd been in Camelot.

He opened the door to Merlin's room slowly, hoping not to wake the boy, but the old hinges screeched anyway, not aware of his good intentions. Ah, well.

Gwaine soon realized that his worries had been unnecessary, as said boy was very much awake, sitting upright in bed, leaning on the pillow that had been placed behind his back by probably Arthur. The prince sat on the chair beside the bed.

The two had apparently been talking. He knew it, could feel it in the air and see in on their faces.

They both turned to him, and Merlin's expression turned wary. He shifted uncomfortably under the blankets, avoiding his gaze, suddenly very interested in the several loose strings at the sleeves of his shirt.

"Gwaine" Arthur nodded, standing up. "You're here just in time to take over for me. I have to go and take care of some business."

The knight nodded and grinned at the prince. "Right. I'll stay with Merlin, don't worry. By the way," he glanced at the boy, who was still staring at his sleeves, and his grin grew bigger of its own accord. "how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, thanks" Merlin mumbled, almost inaudibly.

Arthur stopped next to him on his way out of the room.

"Wipe that grin off your face, will you?" the prince hissed.

"Whatever you mean by that, sire?" Gwaine asked, his grin growing, if possible, even bigger. Arthur scowled.

"Stop being so annoying."

Gwaine smirked. "I'll stop being annoying when you stop being a princess"

Arthur threw him one last piercing glare (which had the effect of further feeding the knight's amusement, rather than scaring him) and left.

Gwaine turned toward Merlin and sat on the chair Arthur had sat on just moments ago, his smirk once more gone.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine" he muttered, again.

"Merlin" the knight warned, letting his friend know he was going to have none of this.

Merlin apparently had picked up on that, for he sighed and finally looked up into Gwaine's eyes. The knight could see so many emotions staring at him in those blue eyes, he almost looked away from their intensity. Almost.

The boy studied his brown-eyed friend for a long minute, his gaze seeming to see through them and into his soul. His expression unreadable, he asked simply:

"Do you hate me now?"

Gwaine was taken aback and it must've have showed on his face, for Merlin visibly relaxed after his shocked: "What for?"

The knight gave a laugh and put a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"Are you mad? Why should I hate you? You were so cool out there! Saved our asses, you did. I bet you could beat the crap out of that stuck-up princess anytime"

Recognizing Arthur's nickname, the warlock smiled. Then his smiled turned into a smirk. And just like that, all trace of uncertainty was gone, a spark of joy flaring up in Merlin's eyes.

"I could beat the crap out of every one of _you _anytime"

"Ha!" Gwaine huffed. "Maybe Percival or Elyan, but I wouldn't be so sure about me, mate"

Then, the knight leaned closer and, looking to see if anybody was lurking behind the door or beneath the bed, he whispered, conspiratorially: "So tell me, Merlin. Can you turn water into ale?"

* * *

The old physician tried, he really did. However, even as the young apprentice of one of the best blacksmiths in the lower town stuttered out (a doubtlessly very confusing) explanation as to why his master wasn't in at the moment, Gaius' mind kept drifting back to his chambers. More specifically, to the small room at the back, where two very young, foolish and brave men were currently talking out something important.

Something that not only was he not a part of, but everyone else seemed to be, for the first time since the young warlock had come to Camelot, in on it before him.

He had to admit it to himself: it was annoying and he hated it. He was used to Merlin hiding things, yes, but he usually was the one who helped him hide those things. He was usually part of the action.

Plus, it worried him. Much more than he cared to dwell on, it worried him. He didn't think he had ever seen anyone's face as blank as Merlin's had been.

His worse guess would be that Arthur had somehow found out about the boy's magic, but that thought had been smothered as soon as it had formed. There was absolutely no way that had happened.

But clearly something did. And he was going to find out what exactly. Should his stubborn ward deny it, so God help him, he was going to talk some sense into that dense head of his.

Gaius finally seemed to notice the lack of noise and willed his attention to focus back on the ginger-haired man shifting uncomfortably before him, waiting for his response.

"Yes" he told the boy, his voice distant even to his ears, pushing two bottles of sleeping draft into his hands. "Quite"

The court physician then turned around and headed for the door,.

"Tell Gregory I'll come by in three days to see if there are any changes to his condition"

"Y-yes, sir. I'll tell him, sir" the boy squeaked, relieved to have been let off the hook.

That had been Gaius' last errand. If the prince and his charge weren't done talking, he was going to have to find something to occupy his time with in order to give them their space. Though the physician had a nagging sensation that if such was the case, he would end up eavesdropping at Merlin's door, something a man of his age and standing just did not do.

So he bid a silent prayer as he made his way towards his chambers, hoping for the best and eager to confront the young warlock.

His worries proved to be pointless, as when he was about to open the door to his room, it opened by itself to reveal none other than Gwaine, dressed in his casual outfit and apparently leaving.

"Gaius" the knight greeted, and he nodded in response.

"Is Merlin awake?" Gaius assumed (or, to put it more truthfully, was 150% sure) the younger man was returning from his ward's bedside.

"Yeah, I think so, though he seemed a bit tired. Started to doze off, 's why I left"

The old man nodded again.

"Well, I'm off. I've got some business to take care of"

And then he was off, leaving Gaius staring after the disappearing knight. The old man shook himself and proceeded to make his way to Merlin's door.

He didn't knock, afraid to wake him up, though he doubted he was asleep already. The door creaked and he stepped inside, his gaze immediately falling onto the form resting on the bed.

He was met by Merlin's blue and very much awake eyes.

"Ah, Merlin" he sighed, closing the door and sitting next to the boy. His face had regained some of the color back, so he could only assume the conversation had went well.

"Gwaine said he had to take care of some things" he began, the warlock staring at a place somewhere above his head instead of looking at him.

"I think he meant the tavern, Gaius"

Gaius smiled, but then his smile faded.

"Merlin"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." The boy pressed his palm onto his forehead, closing his eyes for a second. He looked utterly exhausted, the old man noted. "You want to know what happened."

"It would be nice, yes." he mused aloud. "But you should rest first. Seeing as no one is dying or dead, I believe it can wait another couple of hours"

Merlin looked at him gratefully as the physician stood up and headed for the door, suppressing his curiosity.

"Gaius wait"

"Yes?" Gaius turned to see a very much resigned look flash across the boy's face. He gulped and looked away.

"Arthur, ahem, kind of found out. You know. About the magic"

Gaius felt his mouth open. Oh. Oh dear.

Why not voice those only thoughts that his mind was capable of?

"Oh dear"

He quickly backtracked his steps and collapsed on the chair.

"How?" was the only thing Gaius managed.

Merlin shifted again and looked at him, smiling nervously. "I sort of used it in front of them" he mumbled.

Oh, dear. However, the prince hadn't seemed murderous, or mad in any way when he had come by earlier. He had only seemed worried. Could it be possible that Uther's obsession hadn't poisoned his mind yet, that he could forgive and accept Merlin?

Wait. In front of _them_?

Gaius glared at his charge, making him shift some more.

"Them?"

Merling gave a nervous laugh, avoiding his gaze. "Well, it is possible that Leon, Elyan, Percival and Gwaine were around there, too"

"Merlin"

"Hm?"

"Would you care to tell me exactly what happened?"

Merlin sighed. He wouldn't have been able to sleep right now, anyway.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. So... what did you think? Let me know? **

**I believe you all hate me a bit right now, because I have been dodging that conversation between Arthur and Merlin this whole chapter. Not to worry though, it's just behind the corner. Right in the next chapter:) **

**I will update, as usual, in two days' time: which is this Thursday. **

**See you all then and thank you for reading^^**


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains. **

**Hello everyone. This chapter will be shorter, just thought I'd warn you. I just had so much work to do these days I barely had time to write at all. School has gone insane, I'm telling you! **

**Anyways, thank you all for sticking with me so far and I promise the next chapter will be longer. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_The door closed behind them and he waited patiently until he could hear the other door close, too. When he was sure they were alone, he turned his attention to the boy in front of him. _

_Merlin looked pale. He looked so pale, had he been unconscious, Arthur would have thought him dead. The purple rings under his eyes and bruises and scratches standing out on his face didn't help but accentuate that, either. _

_The prince sighed. He was going to have to tread carefully, for whatever rage and lack of care had driven the very powerful young man before him to reveal his magic was clearly not there anymore. _

_"Merlin, look at me please." _

_When he didn't get any answer, he placed his hand on the warlock's shoulder. Merlin flinched out of his skin and turned to him, but the action seemed to have at least woken him out of his trance. _

_The boy stared at him with eyes so full of conflicted emotions: regret, guilt, relief, fear and others he could not name, it was all Arthur could do not to turn away. And then, just like that, the gale faded to a sad shade of blue. Resignation and regret was all he could see now in his eyes and in his face, but he knew all those other feelings were still there, somewhere, and that made him wonder what else exactly he did not know about his manservant. _

_However, he had made his decision. Nothing Merlin had to tell him was going to change that. _

_"I'm sorry, Arthur" he said, his voice surprisingly clear. His gaze had moved away, he was staring at his still hands. _

_"How long?" _

_To his surprise, Merlin gave a bitter snort/chuckle/laugh. _

_"How long what exactly?" _

_Now Arthur was beginning to get annoyed. What was the idiot playing at? _

_"Do you want me to spell it out for you? How long have you been practicing sorcery, _Mer_lin?" _

_"I was born with it!" Merlin snapped, the intensity back in his eyes. The prince clamped his mouth shut, regretting his slip. Athur-foot-in-mouth strikes again. He really was a prat. _

_"Is that possible?" he asked softly, his voice betraying his shock. He had not expected that. _

_The raven-haired man studied the prince's face for a second, as if not sure where the conversation was going._

_"You could try to study magic you whole life, Arthur, and you won't be able to do a single spell if you don't have an aptitude for it." _

_"Really?" Arthur asked frowning, then realized how stupid he must have looked in that moment. "I mean, surely you have to be mistaken. Anyone can practice sorcery, it is a choice people make." However, even as he said it, he doubted his own words, the words his father had told him. _

_Merlin shook his head slightly and the prince frowned again. _

_"People are born with magic Arthur. I didn't choose magic-I never had a choice. It_ _chose_ me. _I could move objects before I could walk-before I could speak" _

_The young prince did not know what to say. He had been expecting something among the lines of having started practicing sorcery so he would be stronger, protect Camelot or something, but this... No, this definitely hadn't been onto his to-expect list. Although, neither did Merlin being a sorcerer at all, if he thought about it that way. _

_"Mum told me how I used to summon cookies or send things I didn't want to eat flying all over the room" Merlin said, a smile ghosting across his lips. _

_Arthur snorted. "That I can believe, Merlin. You have always thought with your stomach" _

_Merlin glared at him, but it lasted only a second. Then he resumed looking at his sleeves. _

_"Mother sent me to Camelot when I started drawing too much unwanted attention. She thought Gaius could help me control my powers, since he'd practiced magic in his youth, before the Purge." _

_"And did he?" _

_"Yeah, although coming here was much more trouble than worth, to be honest" the young man snorted, and Arthur couldn't resist slapping him lightly across the back of his head. _

_They both smiled. This was easy, this was familiar territory. Arthur's face grew serious again. _

_"Why did you stay in Camelot?" _

_Merlin eyed the prince with an amused glint in his eyes the latter didn't quite like. _

_"Long story short: you" _

_"Huh?" was the intelligent response of Camelot's future king. _

_The warlock gave a short laugh. _

_"Please tell me the long story makes more sense than the short one" Arthur groaned and Merlin suddenly grew still. He nodded solemnly. _

_"How much time have you got?" _

_"What do you mean?" the prince asked, confused. And then, just before Merlin opened his mouth, he realized what his manservant/best friend/warlock had meant. _

_"It's a very long story, Arthur. You sure you have the time?" _

_Arthur wished in that moment with his whole being that he could tell him that yes, yes he had time. All the time in the world. He wanted to stay there and listen to Merlin's story, listen to his reasons. He wanted his friend to erase the ghost of worry tugging at his heart, worry about the decision he had made. _

_The prince grimaced. "My father wants me to attend council meeting" _

_Merlin nodded. "Than you should go, sire. You don't want to anger the king" _

_"Merlin?" _

_"Yeah?" _

_"When will you be up to a... kind of a meeting?" _

_Merlin eyed him suspiciously, and Arthur sighed. Did he have to explain everything to him? "You might want to tell that story when Leon, Gwaine and Elyan are there, too" _

_The boy's face paled a notch. Arthur could hear him gulp. _

_"I'm not sure that's a good idea." _

_The prince then sighed. "It's a very good idea-" _

_"Arthur-" _

_"-that has been put forward by the _prince_" he paused and gave him a patronizing glare."of Camelot, Merlin. The _knights _of Camelot have agreed to it" Arthur's tone was the very annoying and familiar I-am-the-future-king-you-shall-obey-me. Merlin sighed. _

_"I don't know. Ask Gaius. He probably won't let me do anything until he thinks I've recovered, so it's not really my decision." _

_Arthur gave a curt nod just as the sound of the door outside opening and closing could be heard. _

_Merlin flinched and the prince tensed. He then shrugged it off and cursed the warlock for making him edgy. They were in the physician's chambers, in his castle, in Camelot. There was hardly any need to flinch every time someone opened the door. _

_Although, the Arthur thought, maybe that _was_ the problem. With so many people knowing his secret (a secret that in this particular kingdom was synonym with the words 'execution', 'beheading', 'pyre' and other such nasty things) and being so close to the king, Arthur could only imagine what it was that the boy was going through. _

_If he were to be honest, completely and utterly honest, he himself half-expected people to just show up out of nowhere, point at Merlin and shout 'Sorcerer!', but he wouldn't admit it in a thousand years. _

"_Gaius?" a voice called and Arthur relaxed. "It's just Gwaine" he told his friend, but that didn't seem to help the raven-haired boy, who was staring at the door very much _not_ reassured. _

_The prince rolled his eyes as said door creaked open, Gwaine's brown head popping through the crack. _

"_Gwaine" Arthur said, standing up. __"You're here just in time to take over for me. I have to go and take care of some business."_

_The knight gave a nod and grinned. "Right. I'll stay with Merlin, don't worry." The future king of Camelot was just about to protest that no, of course he wasn't worried, why would he be worried, whatever had given Gwaine that ridiculous idea, but the knight had already turned his attention to the warlock, who was sitting on the bed, avoiding everyone's gaze and fiddling with his sleeves. _

"_By the way, how are you feeling?" _

"_I'm fine, thanks" his manservant mumbled, and Arthur felt irritation rising in his chest when he saw the other man smirking. He was enjoying this, the bastard. _

_Because he was _not _overly protective of the injured manservant/warlock who was _not_ his friend, Arthur stopped next to Gwaine on the way out and hissed, too low for Merlin to hear. "Wipe that grin off your face, will you?" _

"_Whatever you mean by that, sire?" If that grin would get any bigger, the prince decided he would wipe it off the knight's face with his fist. _

"_Stop being so annoying" _

"_I'll stop being annoying when you stop being a princess" _

_Arthur counted to ten in his head, determined not to let Gwaine know exactly how effective was his rile-up-Arthur strategy. Instead, he shot him the best glare he could muster, and refrained from snapping at him when the other man's smirk only grew. _

_He slammed the door a bit harder than necessary on his way out, making his way towards the council room with an angry look on his face that made all the servant scramble from his path._

* * *

The prince lay on the bed in his chambers, going over the conversation he had had with Merlin earlier that day.

He had talked to Gaius that afternoon too, and the physician had assured him he should recover enough to walk around with the aid of crutches in a couple of days or so, but that he shouldn't expect him to be back to his duties until at least a month. The old man had emphasized that point, and not even Uther himself could argue with the man when he used that tone.

He had spoken to the others and agreed to meet in Merlin's room (Arthur didn't look forward to being locked in a small room with three other knights _and_ Gwaine) in three days' time.

Arthur ran a hand through his golden hair, sighing deeply. He really hated the idea of waiting three whole days to talk to his friend. Of course, he would check up on him every day, but he wasn't supposed to tire the warlock. Gaius had insisted that they give his ward at least two days to rest. Also, he had assured the prince that Merlin would probably be sleeping most of that time, anyway.

The others had agreed that the boy needed rest, and they all decided it was best not to make Merlin tell the story twice. As a result, Arthur was left itching for that meeting, which was, unfortunately for him, three days away.

The prince trusted his knights not to say anything until then, but he couldn't be 100% sure that, in all circumstances and situations, they would comply. What if something happened and one of them thought Merlin was behind it and decided to act?

Arthur shook his dark thoughts away. He trusted these men with his life and he knew honor was religion to them. He had made them swear, and they would keep their promise. Besides, they liked and trusted the warlock, too.

The prince sighed. His thoughts had been going in the same circles for the past two hours: his dislike of the fact that he had to wait three days for his answers, reasonable explanation as to why he had to wait, worry about his knights running to the king about Merlin, dismissing the worry because it was ridiculous and finally coming back to hating the three days' wait.

A knock on the door made Arthur jump out of his skin. "Who is it?" he shouted, annoyed at having been pulled out of his spinning train of thoughts.

"I-It's me, sire"

Arthur cursed under his breath and jumped out of bed, guilt at having snapped like that tugging at his heart.

"Come in" he called.

The door opened and Gwen came in, dressed in a pale pink dress that went perfectly with her coppery skin. Her hair was tied up in a low bun, a couple of rebel locks curling around her face, a silver tray in her hands.

She smiled softly at him. "You didn't eat much at supper tonight, so I though I'd bring you something to eat."

Gwen brushed past him and set the tray on the table in his room, a blush creeping onto her cheeks when the prince's hand grabbed her arm and pulled her close, his hands locking behind her waist.

She looked up at him, smiling. Her expression changed upon seeing the dark shades under his eyes and the emotion hidden behind those blue orbs.

"Merlin will be fine, Arthur. You know that, right?"

Arthur's own smile fell a little. He wished he could tell Gwen everything. Not only did he not like leaving her out like this, but he also needed to talk to her, needed her to confirm his own opinion about all these.

Besides, wasn't she Merlin's friend too? Didn't she have a right to know?

The prince stored the idea for another time. Gwen might be Merlin's friend and might deserve to be told, but it wasn't his place to do so. The least he could do was bring it up to the warlock himself, something his mind was already set on doing.

Arthur realized he had drifted off, as Gwen's brows were furrowed in confusion and a bit of worry.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, I know that. Of course."

The maid eyed him for a long minuted, time in which the prince tried to look as innocent and truthful as possible. Finally, either falling for Arthur's act or giving up trying to convince the stubborn prince otherwise (probably the latter), she smiled and stood on her toes to kiss him on the forehead.

"Good"

Gwen threw him one last smile and exited the room, leaving the prince to wonder and worry and wait.

* * *

**So, this was it. What do you think? Hope you all liked it. **

**Again, I promise to make the next chapter(s) longer. **

**Thank you all for reading and liking this story. I am really indebted to you all. Also, thank you for all those beautiful reviews. Whenever I feel down or too exhausted to type a single letter, I see your comments and they literally warm my heart. Thank you. **

**I will update this Saturday. **

**See you all soon^^ **


	8. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains. **

**Hello you all. I know, I know, I promised a longer chapter. However, a few things happened: first, the initial chapter was erased when my laptop stopped working before I could save it. This happened this evening. I was starting to rewrite it and, well, I realized it's probably better that I lost the chapter, because I came up with a whole new one. It's not what I was originally planning, but I think it's better. You'll have to trust me on that. **

**I'm sorry it's so short though, but it's all I've managed, given that I had to write a whole chapter this night. (Yes, it is 2 and a half in the morning now) **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

Agravaine slipped through the dark street, darting expertly from shadow to shadow, avoiding patrols with the skill of one who had done this a million times before and the ease of one familiar with the patrol plans of the knights.

It had become all second nature to him, really. He knew the quickest and safest routes, he knew where the knights would patrol each night and he knew how to avoid them if he happened to cross their path. Besides, they as well as the guards were quite predictable. Even a fool could slip past them.

Agravaine snorted and pulled his hood up as he finally entered the castle through one of the servant's doors, that he had made sure would be left unlocked earlier that day.

His ascent through the palace was, as usual, easy and quick, the man reaching his chambers in no time.

Once inside, he removed his traveling cloak and dumped it on the closest chair, sitting himself at the table.

He sighed. His talk with Morgana hadn't gone exactly well.

To put it shortly and mildly, the witch was not pleased. She had been particularly vicious tonight. Maybe it had something to do with that Catha or whatever he was (Alator was his name?) and his betrayal. They had been so close to finding out who Emrys was, only to fail at the very end.

He himself wasn't so affected by this, but Morgana was enraged. Maybe it was because, personally, Agravaine wasn't as convinced by all this 'Emrys' thing. His niece was a powerful sorceress. He could not, for the life of him, understand why she'd be scared by a couple of odd prophecies regarding an old man. He had tried to talk some sense into her, of course, but whenever reason and Morgana got too close to each other, the only result was a very, very pissed off witch.

Agravaine really cared for the girl. Maybe it was his hatred for Uther, maybe it was something else, but he really cared for her and wanted to see her on the throne. Well, there were a couple of things he would get out of that, but that wasn't the only reason he helped her.

However, for all the power she had, Morgana wasn't the best strategist. Also, when an idea stuck in her head, it tended to remain stuck. Like in this very case with Emrys, she had gotten to the point of _obsession _and Agravaine knew she would not likely give it up.

That tendency towards obsession, as well as her temper (which really proved she had Pendragon blood in her veins, not that he was going to tell her that) made her quite a difficult person to reason with.

She was not one for patience, either. And it tired and infuriated Agravaine that he could not talk some sense into her, make her think things through. She was still young, despite everything, and needed someone to guide her.

He sighed. The man knew she was growing impatient, and he had to come up with some way to find this Emrys person before she decided to do anything rash. If only he knew more about this sorcerer, this man, he could come up with a way to trick him, capture him, find out who the hell he was.

One thing was for sure: he had to have a spy in the castle, otherwise how would he know everything about their plans, about Arthur?

Agravaine was certain it was Gaius, but they couldn't risk kidnapping the man twice. Beside the fact that Arthur would not be fooled into questioning the physician's loyalties now for the second time, Agravaine had nearly been caught trying to kill the man.

The past days, he had seen Gwaine watch him carefully, and the man was smarter than to give the hot-headed knight any reason to believe his doubts might have some ground after all.

Perhaps there was another apy? Someone helping Gaius?

Agravaine was sure that, if that was the case, Merlin would be it. As much of an idiot the bumbling servant was, as improbable as it may seem, it was out of the question. But kidnapping Merlin was: he didn't even dare mention it to Morgana lest she get any ideas. The prince trusted his manservant blindly, and should he suddenly disappear, Arthur would go looking for him. They had proof of that. And even if they tried to set the clumsy servant up, there was no way his nephew would fall for it. His trust in that idiot never ceased to amaze him.

As it was, Agravaine sighed again.

There must be a way around this, he thought, massaging his temples.

There was a soft knock on the door and the man unconsciously tensed, before shaking himself and calling: "Yes, who is it?"

"Uncle? May I come in?" came the reply, muffled by the door.

"Of course, come in"

He stood as Arthur entered, glancing behind him briefly before closing the door. Agravaine refrained from raising his eyebrows. The prince looked nervous, tensed.

"I need to talk to you about something" the Arthur said, his eyes scanning the room as if to make sure there was no one lurking in the shadows.

"Yes, of course. Please, sit Arthur."

The prince sat at the table next to his uncle and Agravaine expertly put on his concerned-uncle face.

"What is it? You seem troubled"

At this, the prince only stared at him, then nodded.

"There is a matter that has been bothering me, and there's no one else I can talk to-no one else I trust"

His interest piqued and eager to learn something that he and Morgana might use, he hurried to reassure his nephew.

"Of course. You know you can tell me anything. I am merely happy to be of assistance to you and Camelot"

Arthur nodded again.

"There have been some disturbing rumors circulating as of late."

"Rumors? What kind of rumors"

Arthur nodded. "Rumors about a… well sorcerer"

Agravaine's eyes widened slightly. What was the prince on about?

"Last week, when my knights went to Gorlor to deal with the supposed beast that was attacking the village, they returned to tell me they had heard of a sorcerer by the name Emrys who is dwelling somewhere in this kingdom."

Agravaine had to suppress a choke. Did he just say Emrys? His mind started working overload, excitement bubbling up in his chest. Could it be that their luck had finally changed? Maybe finding this Emrys wouldn't be so difficult, after all.

Barely containing his emotions, he asked the prince as casually as he could: "What about this sorcerer, my lord?"

"The villagers said a druid had passed though their town and spread the rumor. Apparently, this druid said that a sorcerer named Emrys was about to bring the dawn of a new age, or something like that. My knights asked around, and one of them found a man from a neighboring town that claimed the same druid had passed through their town, too, and had spread the same news."

"Do you have any idea what this druid looks like?" Agravaine asked, head buzzing with the information. Emrys would bring a new age? He didn't know much, but he'd be damned if that didn't sound like the sorcerer was going to make a move. Maybe if they acted quick enough they could find him and get rid of him once and for all. Then there really will be a new age.

The man smiled inwardly, while maintaining a concerned appearance for Arthur's sake.

"No" the prince shook his head. "He supposedly wore a cloak"

Agravaine feigned disbelief. "And you believe all this to be true, my lord?"

"Well…" the prince shifted a little. "Even if it isn't, I think we should try and find out a bit more, don't you think?"

Agravaine counted to ten mentally and pretended to consider this. "Yes, yes, I believe you're right, Arthur. We cannot allow the chance that these rumors are true. You know how dangerous sorcery is. It seems to me as if this 'dawn of a new age' is a move against you, my lord"

Arthur nodded. "If it's true"

"Yes, if it's true. You were right to come to me with this, Arthur. This is serious."

The prince stood and regarded his uncle with a relieved smile on his face, placing a hand on his uncle's shoulder.

"Thank you for your help, uncle. I cannot tell you how grateful I am for all that you've done. I shall take some knights and ride out myself to this village to try and find out more"

"Of course. We shall ride in the morning, I suspect?"

Arthur shook his head as his uncle stood, too. "No, I need you here in the palace. You'll be in charge while I'm gone."

"Of course"

The prince then walked to the door and prepared to leave, but not before turning and throwing Agravaine a grateful glance. "Thank you, uncle. I knew I could count on you"

As soon as he was gone, Agravaine slumped on his bed, not even bothering to change his clothes. This was perfect.

A smile made its way onto his face. He could not wait to tell Morgana the news. Arthur himself and his knights were going to save them the trouble of searching for Emrys. They would find him for them.

* * *

**That was it. What do you think? Did I confuse you just a bit? **

**I'll probably update no later than Tuesday. I hope to manage it on Monday, but there's some stuff I have to take care of, so Tuesday it's more likely. **

**Thank you all for reading this. I love you all. **

**Till Tuesday^^ **


	9. Chapter 9

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains. **

**Hello everyone. This is the new chapter-longer, as I have promised. It's not much of an action-chapter, though. **

**Hope there aren't any grammar or spelling mistakes left in there. If you see anything, don't hesitate to tell me. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

The dawn had not yet come. The world was still engulfed in darkness, yet it was that kind of darkness that can only be found right before sunrise: a kind of darkness that you can feel breaking, preparing to give way to light. Waiting.

The quiet of this time was almost palpable. Every servant, noble, king and animal seemed to be holding their breath, lost in the moment when sleep pulled them deepest in its depths.

Merlin could feel all of these, as _he _was not able to sleep.

At least, not anymore. He had woken maybe an hour or so ago, from what he didn't know, and had been standing unmoved under the blankets, staring at the white ceiling since.

He did not dare to move. Every sound he accidentally made, even his own chest rising and falling as he breathed, seemed to be somehow amplified at this hour, its clarity risen a couple of notches.

The warlock had first enjoyed all this silence. It was relaxing, after all that had happened, to finally take a break from it all. He didn't have to talk to anyone, to explain anything to anyone, to even see anyone, as everyone was asleep.

But then, thoughts started coming to him. Dark little nagging feelings tugging at the hems of his heart, slowly making their way to the surface of his consciousness, breaking through the quiet.

Merlin had had no time, over the last few weeks, to actually think about all that had happened.

And it had all happened so fast. It was _still_ happening so fast. The young warlock couldn't help but feel it was all so, so fast.

Actually, he had a really hard time believing it was happening at all. His mind couldn't quite grasp the concept of Arthur and the knights of the round table knowing he had magic. He just couldn't.

In those first few days, all of those memories, _the_ memories, had seemed separated, distant, blurred. Like they weren't actually real, or not actually his. It had felt like someone else had planted their memories in his head. It still felt that way, kind of.

He knew any time now the idea would actually sink in. To be honest, he was a bit afraid of that moment, but for now, it just all seemed like a dream.

A dream happening too fast. The last three weeks had been but a blur: eat, sleep, eat, sleep, knights visiting, Arthur visiting, more sleep.

Well, that and the occasional plotting. For the past weeks he, Arthur, Gwaine, Elyan, Percival and Leon had been plotting.

Merlin had decided the day of their first meeting, when he'd explained them everything, that he would stay true to his promise and tell Arthur the truth (he might've also promised he would tell the prince _everything_, but in his opinion everything did not include certain events, like the whole Freya-deal and other similar situations, so according to this logic he had kept his promise all right) and that truth included something that could not be ignored anymore: and that was Agravaine.

Of course, the stubborn prince had all but dismissed the idea at first.

"_Very funny Merlin"_ had been the Agravaine reaction no. 1; _"Merlin, it is my uncle we are talking about" _had been no. 2; no. 3 and 4 consisted of very strong denial (_"You're wrong Merlin, and I will hear no more of it, understood? You asked me to tell you the truth: here it is. Believe me or not. Of course I don't he's my uncle Merlin! Princess, he might actually have a point there. I did see you uncle with his dagger to Gaius' throat back in the caves. I said I woULD HEAR NO MORE OF IT! I'm afraid Merlin is right, sire. There is no doubt. I have seen both Morgana and Agravaine in those caves. They both contributed to my set-up and subsequent kidnap."), _followed closely by a rage fit and every-person-I-trust-betrays-me spiel.

Then, after a long, half an hour of convince-Arthur-killing-Agravaine-right-now-is-a-very-bad-idea, the knights, warlock and Gaius had finally started plotting. It had been an unanimous decision that _something_, at least, should be done.

So they had settled upon the following plan: knowing that Morgana was looking for Emrys, her supposed 'doom', and that Agravaine was her ally, then why not lure the both of them into a trap?

The plan followed like this: Arthur had to go to his uncle, confessing his knights had stumbled across these rumors about a certain sorcerer named Emrys that was traveling from town to town, announcing he was going to attack Camelot. Of course, no sane person would do such thing, but Merlin was sure the prince's uncle was going to fall for it as soon as he heard the name 'Emrys'. Even if he became suspicious (which he doubted), he knew Morgana well enough to know that she was in charge, and the witch was impulsive and obsessed enough not to think on it too much. She took after Uther far more than she could imagine.

The next stage consisted of them traveling to the town in question to 'further investigate the matter'. In reality, they would only wander around in a village nearby (in disguise, of course), then come back and announce that they had found out the supposed whereabouts of the supposed sorcerer, information that would doubtlessly reach Morgana.

Arthur would stall, pretending to prepare for a confrontation with Emrys, while the witch would probably hurry to make a move before him. (And they would be there to ambush her)

Or, as Merlin thought was actually going to happen, she would let Arthur capture Emrys and execute him. It would take care of her problems, wouldn't it?

The warlock had tried to stress that point, seeing a lot of holes in their flawless plan, but there was no talking them out of it. And after Gaius had oh-so-helpfully put in that _"Morgana will want to destroy Emrys herself, to make sure he's out of the way. He's too much of a threat to just brush this opportunity off and risk Arthur fail. After all, so many sorcerers have escaped before, and Emrys is supposed to be very powerful". _

In conclusion, yes, they were going to go through with it and yes, he was going to have to help. He didn't think Morgana would be so stupid so as to fall for it, but hey? Who was he to talk?

All they had had to do was wait till Gaius gave them the green light where Merlin was concerned. Because even if Arthur had been convinced of the idea that they should take action right then and there, after Agravaine's traitorous nature was revealed by Merlin, Gaius (muttering something about young princes and warlocks always rushing into things) had shed light on the fact that his manservant had to heal first. The prince had reluctantly agreed.

Now, after three weeks' waiting time, Merlin was finally deemed fit enough to accompany the knights on their trip.

As such, this night Arthur had gone to Agravaine and talked to him accordingly, announcing their leave.

There was another thing, atop all of those worries and fears, that was really bothering him, though. Arthur had known for three weeks now. _Three weeks._ And while he was happy that nothing seemed to have changed, something still felt… off.

It was as if the knights and prince had not yet truly come to terms with it. Well, except for Gwaine.

He was also getting the feeling that Arthur was somehow avoiding the subject of magic. Merlin knew it would take time, but it still annoyed him.

The warlock felt as if it was all too normal. Too normal too quickly.

He had expected some drastic change the moment Arthur found out. It had always felt like his whole life had added up to that moment, the moment of truth, and when it had finally come… it was gone. Everything was back to normal. He was still Merlin, Arthur's manservant, Arthur was still the crowned prince of Camelot, Gaius was still Gaius, Uther was still Uther, Gwaine was still Gwaine,everyone was still everyone and everything was still everything.

The citizens of Camelot were going about their business, completely oblivious to the amazing and huge change in his life. He wanted to shout at them "Arthur knows! How can you be so…normal?" The sun still rose and set the same way as before, people lived as before…

His life had been turned upside down and yet nothing had changed. But wasn't that what he had wanted in the first place?

A memory of Arthur's brief look of unease whenever someone mentioned magic told him that no, it wasn't the world that bothered him. It was the prince, who still had to fully understand and accept him.

If a bit downhearted, Merlin finally turned on his side and closed his eyes, anxious to leave with the knights and determined to make Arthur see, really see who he truly was.

* * *

Okay, so maybe making Arthur see who he truly was wasn't going to be that easy after all.

They had set out a couple of hours ago, and had been riding non-stop all that time. The prince had been very clear that they were to make it to the For-what's-its-name village (Merlin couldn't, for the life of him, remember the name of that blasted village) by nightfall. As such, they had ridden without so much as a break and finally the warlock seemed to had had enough of it: he felt grumpy, was hungry, his leg ached from being held in the same position for that long and his back was sore.

"Arthur" he called, a hint of irritation in his voice. Why he had been left two horses behind the prince was beyond him, and if he were to be honest with himself, might have also contributed to his irritation. He was the one that usually stood right next and slightly behind the prince, whether they were traveling by horse or by foot.

"Arthur!" he yelled, his patience a bit on the edge.

"Yeah?"

Merlin could see the blond head of the future king of Camelot not turn around. "We should take a break"

Gwaine, whose horse was just inches from his own, glanced at Arthur's back, his brows furrowed.

"We have to make it to Furlorgh by nightfall, _Mer_lin"

Said warlock opened his mouth to protest (and yeah, perhaps throw a couple of insults in the mix) when Gwaine beat him to it.

"I think Merlin's right. We should eat something and let the horses rest a little"

"_Gwaine_" Arthur's tone held that warning tint, and Merlin turned to look at his friend. Gwaine, as he had thought, was either completely oblivious of the warning or he had deemed it ignorable, for he had _that_ gleam in his eyes.

"Gwaine I don't-" he started to say, but was cut off by the knight suddenly stirring his horse to the left, hence forcing Merlin (who was standing in his way) to move in that direction as well.

The (suicidal) knight pushed harder at his heels, the manservant forced to move ahead. "Gwaine, what are you doing?" he asked, hoping to stop his friend from doing something he would doubtlessly regret.

"GwaINE!" came the shout from somewhere behind them, followed by the sounds of several other horses coming after them. Oh, this was so not good.

He was preparing to try and talk Gwaine out of this one when the knight beat him to it. (Again)

"Here, this will do" the knight said, a grin in his voice as he came to a halt and dismounted at the edge of a very small clearing.

Merlin watched his friend with a mix of amusement and worry as the man proceeded to tie his horse to one of the trees.

"Arthur will not be pleased" he told him, even as he felt his face crack into a smile he couldn't quite contain. Gwaine grinned back at him.

"I'm not here to please the princess. Just to make sure he doesn't get himself killed."

"What the hell are you doing, Gwaine?" Arthur's angry shout reached their ears seconds before the prince himself appeared, the others closely behind him. He scowled at the knight in question, who just smirked.

"I need a break"

"And I say we press on. "

"Sire, Sir Gwaine might actually have a point this time" Leon said, his voice a bit hesitant but still more reasonable than the others.

Merlin smiled at the knight. Leon had always been their voice of reason.

Arthur turned in his saddle to look at the others, who were suddenly very intent on either dusting off their horse's mane, or checking their swords and making sure the bags were still tied to their saddles.

The prince sighed, knowing this was their way of not agreeing to him. He then locked eyes with his servant, and Merlin gave him and innocent smile.

"What should we do, sire?" he asked in his most happy-to-serve-the-future-king voice.

Said king-to-be rolled his eyes and dismounted with a huff, holding on to his pride with his teeth. "My horse is tired. I believe we should take a break"

The others quickly agreed, ignoring Gwaine's sudden fit of laughter, while Merlin himself dismounted and approached the prince. He put on his best concerned face, trying very hard not to smile, and asked him: "Shall I inspect your horse, sire?"

Arthur spun on him, throwing the reins at the warlock, who now couldn't contain his smirk.

"Go and prepare something to eat, _Mer_lin. Make yourself useful for once!"

Merlin felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to see Gwaine standing next to him. It took only a second of looking at each other for them to burst into a small fit of muffled-laughter-turned-coughing as Arthur stormed away.

* * *

It seemed that, after all, Arthur had been right. They didn't quite make it to the bloody F-something village in time, so they had to camp for the night.

Merlin refused to accept the innocent break might have had anything to do with that. Arthur kept stubbornly blaming it on him.

"The world is one huge tankard of injustice", as Gwaine had helpfully put it. He could only agree.

As it was, he ended up where he was right now, staring at the small patch of sky visible through the canopy above. A few white grains were speckled over the sky.

A muttered curse broke through the chilly night air, but Merlin ignored it and continued to keep up the pretense of sleep. It probably was three in the morning already. He wished he could just fall asleep.

A second string of curses reached his ears, and this time the warlock recognized the voice. He turned his head away from the stars. He could barely make out the form of Arthur crouched over a couple of glowing ambers, sparks erupting seemingly out of nowhere somewhere above them, each round followed by more swearing.

The prince was probably trying to relight the fire. He scanned the forms of the other knights, all of them sprawled in a circle around where the fire had been. All of them seemed to be sleeping.

Finally, Merlin decided to give his friend a hand and stood up silently, making his way discreetly to the prince.

So intent was he on his task, that Arthur didn't hear his manservant until Merlin's voice came in a low tone from behind his back.

"Would you like me to help you with that, sire?"

The prince startled, turning around to look at Merlin, who proceeded to sit next to him and stare at the ambers, shivering a little at the occasional gust of wind.

Arthur turned back to the same ambers, resuming his task. "I know how to light a fire, _Mer_lin, thank you very much"

Merlin waited a couple of beats, the sound of the flint stones scraping against each other in a vain attempt to create one lucky and useful spark the only sound that was to be heard.

"I could do it faster"

Arthur didn't stop, ignoring his friend's barely audible whisper, but the warlock could see him tense just that tiny bit, and his own shoulders slumped a little. His message had been sent and received.

Merlin had been right about Arthur. He wasn't ready. At least not yet. He couldn't even stand to hear about magic, never mind see it done in front of him.

The boy knew the prince trusted him, though. He had told him so himself, and he had seen it in him. So what was his problem, all of a sudden?

A small beginning of anger in his chest was all it took for Merlin to summon the determination needed. He had to confront Arthur now,. Not later, not tomorrow. Now.

"Arthur"

"_Mer_lin" the prince retorted, in typical Arthur-fashion. Merlin ignored him.

"Arthur, what's wrong?" he asked, but the prince continued to not look at him.

_Scrape Scrape Scrape_

"Arthur would you please just look at me"

_Scrape Scrape Scrape_

"Arthur"

_Scrape Scrape_

"Look at me!" he half-shouted, clamping his mouth shut almost immediately and checking that the others were still asleep. Gwaine groaned a little and shifted under his blanket, but nobody else even flinched.

A heavy sigh made Merlin turn his attention back to his best friend, who had given up trying to light the almost-dead ambers.

"I'm sorry" Arthur breathed. The warlock couldn't make out the prince's features, but he knew him too well. He could make out the underlying small hint of guilt and resignation, the feeling of a weight on the prince's shoulders.

"What's wrong?"

When Arthur tried to shake his head, Merlin took it as his cue to continue. "Is it because of my magic"

It wasn't actually a question. He could see Arthur tense the tiniest of bits, and he knew he had struck right at the core.

"Arthur-" he started, but it was Arthur's turn to cut him off.

"I'm sorry. It's just… I don't know. I guess it hasn't fully sunk yet. You know. Your…" he hesitated. "Your magic. I just don't know…"

"Don't know what?" Merlin asked, his heart giving the smallest of flutters.

The prince, much to the warlock's surprise, gave a laugh. Then, he turned and tried to look Merlin right in the eye, even though he couldn't make out much in the dark.

"I'm sorry, Merlin. It's just hard, knowing there's so much about you that I don't know. And I-it will take some time."

Merlin nodded, a bit relieved. "Just… please try not to flinch every time I mention magic, Arthur. I'm tired of lying, of hiding. Do you know how many times I could've saved your lives without all the casualties, had I been able to use my gifts freely?"

Arthur flinched again, but this time not because of the M word. "I know. I'm sorry"

Merlin smiled. "Never thought I'd hear you say sorry so many times in a single breath"

Arthur's reaction was a dull pain in his arm as the prince punched him lightly. "Idiot"

"_Forbearne_" Merlin muttered, and flames suddenly sprung to life over the ambers, blinding them for a second with their sudden light. The warlock could see Arthur's blue eyes staring at him, but he didn't seem quite so uncomfortable anymore.

They stared at the flames in companionable silence, bathing it the warmth, before a smile crept onto Merlin's face.

"Wanna see something really cool?" the warlock asked, his voice the tiniest bit hopeful.

"Sure" Arthur hesitated, but only briefly.

Merlin felt his hear beat heavier. He had always craved for a friend, someone he could share the secret of his magic with, this tiny things he did in the dead of the night just for fun. Someone who could actually see what his magic was: this. He just hoped Arthur could be all those things.

"_Upastige draca_" he murmured, his eyes burning for just a second as his magic was released.

Arthur drew back with a gasp when suddenly the flames grew, a miniature dragon of fire emerging from the blaze. The dragon hovered gracefully in circles over the fire, his mouth opening and closing as if screeching.

Merlin stole a glance at his friend, his chest filling with thrilled joy as he saw Arthur's awe-filled gaze.

Deciding to brag a little more, he muttered "_Fleogan ac aswindan_". Arthur, wide eyes locked on the flying flames as they were, couldn't even hear him, and as such was taken by surprise when the burning dragon decided to swoop up into the air, towards the sky.

Merlin couldn't keep his grin off his face as he watched the prince crane his neck in order to catch the flames, who were dissipating into thin air, the dragon's wings fluttering one last time before darkness took their place.

Arthur kept staring at the sky for a couple of seconds, then turned his eyes on the grinning warlock.

"So you liked that?" Merlin asked, barely managing to keep from laughing out loud.

The prince suddenly seemed to be aware of his reaction and shrugged himself, barely containing his own smile as he adopted a very dignified, bored expression.

"I've seen better" he announced.

Merlin rose an eyebrow, still grinning. "No you haven't" Arthur soon followed, the smile that split his face soft. "No I haven't" he agreed.

Arthur smiled for a couple more seconds, then his smile turned into a mischievous smirk that Merlin had learned it only ended up with him in unfortunate positions, such as the stocks.

"Oh, no. I've seen that face before and the answer is no. Whatever you're planning, no"

Merlin gave to stand, but was stopped dead in his tracks by the prince's voice.

"I want you to help me pull a prank on Gwaine"

Before he knew it, a grin mirroring Arthur's adorned his features. "What do you have in mind?"

* * *

**Thank you for reading. Tell me what you think? **

**I felt the need for a little bromance in there. It was like Arthur and Merlin didn't actually set things out straight completely before them. **

**Thank you, again, for reading this. I am much, much indebted to you all. And thank you all for the marvelous reviews. Big hugs for everyone! **

**The next chapter will come this Friday. **

**See you all then^^ **


	10. Chapter 10

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains. **

**Hey everyone. It's late and I'm really tired. I don't know how I managed to write this. **

**Please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

It was a fairly beautiful day. That is, according to the common definition, it was a beautiful day: the sun was shining, the sky was blue, the birds were chirping and all that.

Now, Gwaine wasn't one to usually agree with the common anything. It was a habit of his to always be on the opposing end of the commonly believed things.

However, today even the hot-headed knight had to admit the folk might be right with their definition of a beautiful day, for indeed it was one.

Everything felt so alive, glowing and bursting with joy and energy. He had woken up to the usual sound of Arthur yelling at Merlin, the other knights moving around the camp. Then, Gwaine had had the pleasure of slowly shaking his drowsiness away on the soothing background of prince-manservant banter.

They had then begun to pack up, which wasn't unpleasant, as he felt really energetic today (must have been the weather) and needed something to do.

They then sat down to eat the remnants of last nights' meal.

"Go refill these, will you Merlin?" Arthur asked his manservant as Gwaine produced an apple seemingly out of nowhere (he always kept an apple close, just in case) and started munching, much to the bemusement of the other knights.

He glared at the stupid grin plastered on Elyan's face, who was right next to him. "What?"

"Nothing" the other smirked and turned back to watch the show Arthur and the warlock always managed to put on.

"-saying, not that you ever listen to me, but remember what you said at that round table in the old castle? About equality? And how-" Merlin was cut off by a very exasperated prince, who threw his hands in the air and rolled his eyes.

Gwaine, grinned. He knew what the manservant was trying to do. Indeed, the prince _had _said they were all equals that time.

"For heaven's sake Merlin! Will you stop reminding me of that? Every time I tell you to do something which is only part of you job as a servant, mind you, you start that useless speech about something I said a very long time ago. Will you just let it go? It was one time. Try and get that into your thick skull as you go and get that water!"

Gwaine laughed when Merlin ducked the water skin that was thrown at him with ease, proceeding to pick it up off the ground and disappear into the trees.

"What was that, _Sir_ Gwaine?"

Gwaine glanced at the king-to-be, who had now taken to cleaning his sword with a rag. The knight found the prince's attempt at being intimating even funnier, for his grin grew. (I mean, come on, that sword didn't need cleaning-it was in perfect shape; besides, even if it did, it wasn't like the stuck-up prince would do it himself, he'd just have Merlin do it for him)

"Whatever do you mean, your highness?" asked Gwaine mockingly, at which Arthur just rolled his eyes and barked "Everybody better be ready when that idiot comes back! We're already behind schedule"

The knight laughed to himself. It was always fun riling the prince up.

He stood up and walked to his horse, staring to stroke its mane affectionately. If anyone had pointed that out, he would have denied it viciously, but Gwaine was actually a bit overly fond of his mare, something he was careful not to show anyone.

The knight felt a small pang of sadness somewhere deep in his chest, and his stomach twisted in an unpleasant knot. He had never told the story of that horse before, not to anyone, not even Merlin.

He could feel Percival's gaze on him and he casually moved his hands so as to look like he was checking if the saddle was well-strapped. The he pulled a water skin out of the bag attached to said saddle (which didn't exactly contain water) and slipped down beside his mare, leaning on the tree trunk.

Gwaine expertly took a swig, throwing a smirk at Percival and lifting the water skin as if saying "Here's to you, too"

It seemed to work, for Percival rolled his eyes and got back to attending to his own horse, shrugging off whatever suspicious thoughts he might have harbored.

As soon as the gaze of his friend was no longer on him, Gwaine's deceptive smirk quickly fell into an unreadable expression as he took another swig, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the harsh bark behind.

The mare's name was Lorelei.

It wasn't the name of his long lost love. It wasn't the name of his dead sister (not that he had any) or mother, or what else. The mare hadn't been named after the victim of some tragic story that would bring tears to the eyes of the maids in the castle.

No. Gwaine wasn't one of those people. But Lorelei was an important… well, horse. It was an important part of his life.

The story was simple, really. The knight didn't even know why it had had such an effect on him, to be honest.

Before he had been allowed to come back to Camelot, but after he had helped Arthur with his quest for the whatever of king Fishy or whatever, he had wandered around for a while, as usual: from town to town, tavern to tavern; the occasional fight broke out here and there, of course.

One night, though, it had ended badly. Gwaine was at this small bar, only a few other chaps and this group of terrifying thugs in one corner playing cards. At first, he had sat in his corner, but after an hour or so the couple of drinks he had had drove him to approach the dangerous (practically screaming 'Don not engage if you value your life') group and started playing cards with them.

Of course it had gotten out of hand: he was winning. They were losing. They didn't like it.

So he was trying to get out of there, stumbling like the drunkard that he was, throwing punches this way and that, (mostly missing the targets, who kept landing punches of their own) when he found himself sent flying across the room into a very, very, very hard wall.

He remembered not thinking exactly straight, and he may have been seeing ten fingers on his right hand rather than five, when a door to his right opened and a boy, not older than eighteen, pulled him in and closed it.

He couldn't remember what happened after that, but he had woken up into that boy's house. Apparently the group had something of an influence there and the boy suggested he leave immediately. He had even given Gwaine his horse, Lorelei, and the knight had fled, not wanting to cause his saviour any more trouble.

Two weeks later he had returned to thank the boy and return the mare, deeming it safe to enter the town without attracting groups of screaming-for-blood, ugly people.

That's when he had found out that, in his haste to leave, he had been spotted. The guy who had spotted him had told the group of dangerous idiots. The group of dangerous idiots had killed the boy who helped him.

Gwaine would never forgive himself. It was one part of him that he wished was not there, one big mistake that he would never forget.

And he knew it was his fault. Had he not been so hangover and dizzy, the boy would never had talked him into leaving. He didn't even know his name.

Gwaine opened his eyes and stood up, placing the water (not water) skin back in his bag. What was done was done. The past couldn't be changed and he knew that, so what was the point in sulking about it?

"Where the hell is that idiot? Has he tripped into the water and drown or something?"

Gwaine smiled to himself, shrugging off bad memories, turning to smirk at the prince, who was currently tapping his foot impatiently, arms crossed in front of him.

"Something the matter princess?" he asked, not able to resist the temptation. "Was that worry in your voice just now?"

Arthur threw him a withering glare that would have sent most knights running. Well, Gwaine thought, good thing he wasn't most knights.

The prince looked like he wanted to say something, his lips pressed together as if he had swallowed something (very) sour, but then the tight line turned into a smirk. Gwaine didn't like the glint in his eyes.

"_Sir_ Gwaine, maybe you should go and check on Merlin, see if the idiot hasn't managed to get himself killed, don't you think?"

The knight in question pretended to think the prince's sarcastic words over. He was going to go after Merlin anyway. The warlock had been missing for quite some time, and he was growing a bit worried, but there was no need to tell Arthur that, was there?

"No, no. I'm pretty sure I don't have to"

"_Gwaine_" came the warning response.

Finally, deciding he had had enough fun and really curious as to why Merlin was taking that long, Gwaine turned his back on the prince of Camelot and started off in the direction of the stream.

"Fine, don't get you knickers in a twist. I'm going"

The last thing he heard before losing sight of the camp was Arthur's outraged "Don't get my… Gwaine!"

* * *

"Merlin! Meeerlin! Meeeeerlin!"

Gwaine muttered a curse. He was walking through the trees, his eyes scanning the trunks in the hope of spotting a familiar raven mop of hair. However, today there seemed to be no mops of black hair or red neckerchiefs anywhere. Only brown tree trunks and green leaves.

Gwaine started, jumping when a loud cry shot through the silence.

It had sounded like someone-a girl-screaming. The knight's fingers twitched involuntarily above the hilt of his sword.

"HELP PLEASE! Somebody HELP!"

In a swift move Gwaine pulled out his sword and held it at the ready, glancing around him and listening for any other sounds. After a second or so, another piercing scream echoed through the trees, and Gwaine listened intently before suddenly darting to the left.

The knight ran through woods, combat-mode full on, following the rapidly fading screams.

"Where are you?" he bellowed, hoping to get another scream out of her so he would know where to go.

Sweat trickled down his forehead as he hopelessly turned his head left and right, not knowing what to do. Trees to the east, trees to the west. Trees, trees and more trees. Nothing even showed any sign of struggle or…

Another scream shot through the air, and Gwaine wasted no time.

Before he knew it, the screams got louder and louder and suddenly he was standing in front of another small clearing, a girl dressed in a shabby brown cloak holding a long branch in front of her, shaking all over.

The girl swung the branch at the boar in front of her, in a vain attempt to keep it at bay.

To keep the _boar_ at bay! The overly, impossibly huge boar at bay!

The knight didn't think. (He never though before he acted, anyway; that was part of why he and Merlin got along so well) He just launched at the boar head-first.

The girl screamed and stumbled (probably over her own feet), while the knight dodged and ducked, trying to land one good blow on the animal, but no matter what he did he simply couldn't seem to touch it.

And then three things happened at once: there was a very loud and deafening crash; the girl stopped screaming; the boar ran into the woods, no doubt terrified by the mysterious crash. Gwaine stared at the trees where the animal had disappeared, blinking. He couldn't quite believe what had happened. In fact, he couldn't quite understand it, either.

"Y-you saved my life" came a muffled, small voice from behind him.

The knight shrugged all else away and stored it for later, sheathing his sword and kneeling next to a very much trembling girl.

"It's alright" he muttered, soothingly. "It's okay. You're okay now"

Gwaine raised a hand to touch her shoulder, but the girl flinched away so violently that he immediately raised both hands palm up, to show he meant no harm.

"it's okay. Shh… It's okay, you see?"

The girl nodded, gulping as a tear escaped and trailed down her cheek.

"What's you name?" asked Gwaine, trying his best to sound harmless.

"Thank you" the girl whispered, disregarding his question.

She slowly and shakily raised to her feet, Gwaine following her. "You okay?" he reached another hand to try and steady her, but she took a step back.

Then she locked two very big, brown eyes with his.

"Thank you" she said again. "You said my life and I wish to repay you"

It took Gwaine a full half a minute to comprehend what she was saying.

"What? Oh, no there's no need" he tried, very much wishing he could stop her from rummaging through the bag he had not noticed she was carrying. "Really, it's alright, I don't need-"

The knight was cut off by the girl, who fished a plain oval mirror out of the bag and held it to him, staring at his face with unwavering determination, the stillness of her features hinting that she wasn't likely to take a 'No' well.

"I want you to have this"

"But, I don't-That is-" Gwaine stuttered (and he never stuttered. What was wrong with him?), but she cut him off. (Again!)

"My mother gave this to me. It is the mirror of dreams. It shows whoever looks into it that which his heart most desires"

Gwaine clamped his mouth shut, his interest piqued. "Is it… is it enchanted or something?" he asked, not knowing what he should make of this. He didn't want to seem rude and turn her gift away, but he wasn't sure about the prospect of a magical object in his possession.

It wasn't that he didn't trust magic. No, Gwaine had traveled a lot, seen a lot of places and a lot of people, enough to know that magic wasn't evil in itself. He wasn't weary or scared of magic.

Magical objects on the other hand… Objects could be, different from magic itself, good or evil. That is, enchanted by an evil sorcerer for evil purposes or by a good one for less evil purposes.

Bu then again, showing what his heart most desired? That could be interesting. He didn't know exactly what his heart desired. That is, he knew what he wanted, of course, but he couldn't pinpoint the exact thing he wanted most.

I mean, one moment he was sure the thing he most desired was mead, the other he could bet his life it was wine. He could never be sure.

Gwaine nodded to himself. Why would the girl wish him harm anyway? He had just saved her. Besides, he now knew they had an expert in magic among them, so he could always ask Merlin if the mirror was an object of dark magic or not.

Finally, the knight reached and took the mirror, turning it over in his hands. It was a plain, oval mirror, the carcass made of brass, a couple of runes he could not read engraved on its back in a swirling design.

"Thank you. But wha-" Gwaine looked up and was shocked to see the girl had all but vanished into thin air. The knight turned around, but he was alone in the woods.

He stole a glance at the mirror.

'_That which your heart desires, eh?_'

He looked into the mirror. For a second, all he could see was his own (extremely handsome, mind you) face, looking back at him, but then the image started to blur and swirl, morphing into something else.

Gwaine's eyebrow raised in curiosity. Then, after a couple of seconds, his brown eyes widened in horror and he dropped the mirror.

* * *

Merlin approached the prince, who was leaning on a tree, a knee bent in front of him and a leg stretched out, his hands locked behind his head and his eyes closed.

"Arthur" he whispered.

The blond opened his eyes and sighed. "Merlin"

The warlock opened his mouth to say something, but just then Elyan's loud "Gwaine! Where've you been, mate?" made them both look up.

Arthur stood, dusting himself off.

"Where the hell have you been, Gwaine? Merlin here came back fifteen minutes ago. Did you get lost or something?" the prince teased, a smirk on his face.

However, much to everyone's surprise, Gwaine only smiled nervously, avoiding the prince's gaze and not rising to the bait. He muttered something unintelligible and then mounted his horse without another word, not looking anyone in the eyes.

Percival, Elyan and Leon were staring openly at the knight.

"What?" asked a very confused Elyan.

"Right…" Arthur said. "Let's get a move on"

* * *

That night, Merlin approached Arthur after dinner, while everyone was still inside. Everyone except Gwaine, who had locked himself in their room and remained there, saying he wasn't hungry. Or thirsty. Which had led to an entire conversation focused on their 'obviously very shaken or gravely ill friend'.

"Don't you think we overdid it a bit?" Merlin asked, trying to keep the smirk off his face.

Arthur looked at him. Merlin stared back. They both burst into a fit of long, stomach-ache-inducing, tears-to-the-eyes kind of laughing.

Gwaine had avoided them the whole day, now and then throwing weary glances at one or the other, barely answering to any questions and generally not talking.

The other knights had gone out of their way tonight trying to think of why their friend could be behaving so strangely.

Only Merlin and Arthur knew, and that was why it was all so hilarious.

Percival chose that moment to get out, followed by Elyan and Leon. They were greeted by a most peculiar sight: the crowned prince of Camelot was bent over, the hand placed on the wall of the building seemingly the only thing keeping him from falling as he gasped for breath between giggles; his manservant, a very powerful warlock, was in the same situation, rasping with laughter as he clutched his stomach.

The two friends tried to stop laughing upon seeing the knights of the round table, but that only made them laugh harder.

"S-sire!" Leon gasped, being the first one to overcome the initial shock.

Finally, the prince's and warlock's laughter died off, leaving them standing up straight shakily and panting, a giggle escaping their lips now and then.

Merlin wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

"I say we tell them" he offered, throwing the future king a knowing look.

Arthur nodded. "For once, Merlin, you are right"

A couple of minutes later, after Merlin had explained them the girl was actually him with an illusion and the boar had been another illusion and the mirror was indeed enchanted, only not in the way Gwaine thought, found Merlin, Arthur, Leon, Percival and Elyan all bent over with laughter.

"And you couldn't let him touch you be-because of the" rasped Elyan, trying to regain his breathing.

"The illusion" finished Percival, a glint in his eyes. "Brilliant"

"Gwaine, the mighty womanizer, that was just-just" Leon started, but burst out laughing mid-sentence.

They all laughed themselves silly that night, while Gwaine stood alone on the bed in their room, questioning his sanity.

After all, that was what anyone would do in his position. He, famous for drinking, gambling, and charming ladies, had seen what his heart supposedly most desired.

He shuddered. It couldn't be true. Gwaine's most deep desire couldn't be, just couldn't be Arthur, Elyan, Merlin, Percival and Leon all naked and waiting for him on a very fluffy bed.

Gwaine shuddered once more.

* * *

**Thank you for reading, as always. This chapter was mostly fluff, and a bit of Gwaine's personal history. I just love Gwaine, as I do all the other knights. They are such complex, amazing characters. **

**Anyway, next chapter the action returns. **

**I don't know how many more chapters there will be, but I can tell you this story is coming to an end. I'm already thinking of a sequel, but I'm not sure. We'll see. **

**Thank you again for all the support. Thanks for all the reviews, favs and followers of this story. I love you all. **

**I will update on Monday. **

**Until then^^ **


	11. Chapter 11

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains. **

**Hello everyone. The last chapters have been more of a break, fluff and friendship and all that. However, I believe it is time for the action to return, don't you think? **

**Anyway, with no further ado, here is the action returning. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

Merlin didn't honestly think it could've gone worse. Sure, there was always the possibility of things turning out for the worst and all of them dying, but that was the ultimate outcome, so it didn't count.

But this… this was the worst possible scenario just grazing that final, awfully wrong outcome. This was as worst as it could have gotten before that and, in Camelot-style, it was what had happened.

The young warlock cursed loudly (not that anyone could have heard him over the loud bangs of explosions, the clashing of swords or the screams of the ones struck down by either one of the former sources of noise), ducking behind a tree trunk just in time to avoid being burnt alive by an enormous ball of fire. He allowed himself a small whimper of pain as the flames falling on either side of the trunk licked at his arms, then, when the heat died, risked turning around to see who had attacked him.

In the relatively small clearing were cramped a whole lot more people than should've been possible.

Druids in long cloaks (most of them with huge, black-edged holes in them) ran around, shooting spells and sending blue lights or orange flames flying through the air in all directions; armor-clad knights with (or lacking) the Pendragon-red cloaks clashed their swords with sturdy, dirty bulks of men, who roared ferociously in an attempt to frighten their Camelot enemies. Merlin squinted against the flames and smoke, but he could not, for the life of him, figure out where the fireball had come from.

Shrugging it off, he turned his attention on more important problems, beginning his search of two familiar faces through the dark haze and glowing blue magical shields that occasionally sprung up here and there. The boy felt his heart dropping all the way to his stomach and the screaming pain in his side (he still refused to look at the big gash he could feel there, where some bloke had managed to cut him with a well-delivered axe or sword or something-with-a-very-sharp-blade blow) rose up a couple of notches. He could feel exhaustion and dread washing over him, trying to steal his consciousness away.

They were losing.

He could see Gwaine, an arrow that hadn't been there before sticking from his shoulder, slowly losing a fight against a particularly ugly bulk of a man, right next to them a middle-aged druid with blood dripping from his sleeves barely managing to hold up a shield for himself and an unconscious Leon. A few feet away, the large form of Percival could be seen dodging fireballs from a lanky sorcerer with a smug grin on his face. Merlin could tell, though, that, even if the knight didn't seem to posses any wounds, he clearly wouldn't be able to dodge the fire forever. Sooner or later one was bound to hit him, and that would be it.

In a spur of the moment decision, the warlock called upon his magic and felt his eyes burning as a mysterious log on fire flew across the clearing right into the smirking sorcerer's head.

Percival looked around, trying to discern the source of the log that had saved him, but shrugged it off as three bulky men came roaring toward him, swords at the ready.

Things were indeed not looking good.

Merlin continued his search, his eyes scanning the crowd in vain.

He couldn't believe this was happening. When had it all happened? How had it all happened? He couldn't remember. The warlock couldn't believe just a couple of weeks ago all had been right: Arthur hadn't had any idea about his magic and he had still been the goofy, happy-go-lucky servant accompanying them everywhere and serving his prat of a prince. It felt like ages ago.

Merlin felt himself a thousand times older.

He groaned and felt his eyes burn instinctively, and suddenly everything seemed to move in slow motion. The boy allowed a small gasp of surprise to escape his lips (he hadn't meant to do that), but immediately shook the shock off and focused.

With gritted teeth and nails digging in his palm as he clenched his fists, he forced himself to ignore the pained and losing forms of all of his friends and allies, searching for those two faces he knew were most important.

Finally, after what seemed like years, he spotted a bloodied mop of golden-blond hair.

Merlin let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. Arthur seemed, not counting the not-deadly damage, uninjured. Then the warlock realized the prince was in the process of dodging a huge fireball, the dreadful realization that he probably wouldn't make it in time following closely behind.

His eyes trailed the ball's trajectory and anger rose faster than bile in his throat.

An unsuspecting mercenary suddenly burst into flames somewhere to his far right, much to the happiness of the druid he was fighting. Merlin wasn't even aware of this effect his anger had had on the man, his attention solely focused on the woman laughing madly at his best friend.

Morgana had her eyes set upon the prince, a terrifyingly insane smile plastered across her face. She wore a black dress that clung to her skin where it was soaked in blood that was not hers, and her hair danced around her face. Judging by her expression, she, too, had noticed Arthur was not going to dodge her fireball in time.

Merlin blamed it all on that blasted hunting trip all those weeks ago. If they hadn't gone hunting, as he had pleaded with the unresponsive prince, all of this wouldn't have happened.

Suddenly, he felt all those feelings that had driven him that time to lose control flooding back into his chest, multiplied tenfold.

Arthur.

Was.

Not.

Going.

To.

Die.

On.

His.

Watch.

Before he knew it, time had resumed its normal speed.

* * *

Morgana felt her smile grow, only to suddenly be completely wiped off of her face as her arm instinctively flew in front of her eyes, in order to protect them from the out of the blue wind and smoke.

When the wind died, she lowered her hand and felt pure hatred, hatred not even Uther managed to get out of her, bubble up in her stomach, creep under every pore of her skin.

Behind a very bright blue shield of light resembling a shard of melted glass, the grass before the light blackened by the fire that was supposed to end the life of her brother, stood a slightly blurred, lanky figure, arm raised towards the shield. Next to him, Morgana could make out Arthur's figure where he had landed on the ground and was now slowly realizing what had happened.

Merlin's eyes shone a pure, bright, unwavering gold.

* * *

**Thank you all for reading! **

**I consider this more of a teaser that a chapter:) I know how much you all like those. **

**I want to thank everyone fore the wonderful reviews and favs and everything. You guys are amazing. **

**This story is very much near the end. I reckon there will be maybe three more chapters, but with me you never know. I mean, this whole story was supposed to be a oneshot at the beginning, and we all know how well that turned out... **

**Anyway. Thanks and see you this Thursday:d **

**Until then! **


	12. Chapter 12

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains. **

**Hello there. Here is the new chapter you all. Apparently, it will be maybe two another chapters or even three until the end of this story. It seems that whatever I do, things always turn out different that I expect. **

**Anyway, this is it, so... **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

He jumped out of the way just in time to avoid a doubtlessly very unpleasant collision with a flying ball of extremely hot, and burning, and frightening (and etcetera) fire.

Arthur's hand unconsciously clutched at his knee, where one similar fireball had gotten the chance to singe his skin, leaving a gaping hole in the material of his trousers. The prince had not been fast enough, and that was a painful reminder of the fact that he didn't know how much longer he could avoid getting hit square in a vital point by the incessant and ruthless attack his sister had begun not long ago.

Arthur knew he needed to get close to her somehow. (Although even in close combat, Morgana still held the upper hand-magic and all that-but maybe, just maybe, he'd stand a chance) But how? How was he going to do that and not end up burnt alive? Not to mention that the witch could always use that infuriating spell he had seen Merlin and all the other sorcerers use, the one that sent you flying back where you came from. Well, the situation called for one word and one word only, a word that could pretty much sum up everything: Damn.

Morgana had given him no time to think, each burning missile coming faster and better-aimed than the one before, and she remained true to that, as the prince was forced to throw himself to the ground. He felt the heat on his back as the fire licked too close to his chain-mail clad skin.

He cursed. How was he expected to develop a very intelligent and functional plan that would get him out of this mess, without getting killed first, of course, if he couldn't even have a moment to think?

Ignoring his body's protests, Arthur gritted his teeth and pushed his hands hard into the ground, propelling himself up. He forced his body to stand up straight, gripping the hilt of his sword and staring into _those_ eyes.

Those eyes that were so full of hatred, so different from the eyes he had grown up with he could hardly believe they belonged to the same person. And yet, even though his mind couldn't truly comprehend how they could've changed so much, he knew that these were the same eyes that had once looked upon him with worry and even love.

Now, however, they were smirking with barely concealed joy at the expense of his pain.

Morgana was smiling a sickening smile. Arthur realized a second too late why that was, as it dawned on him that he wouldn't be able to dodge in time the ball that was flying towards him. Yet, even as his mind had resigned itself to the painful fate and begun the preparations, his body still refused to give up, trying to move out of harm's way. His eyes shut close of their own accord, but whether it was because of the collision-to-come with the hard ground or the fire coming his way, he did not know. Arthur doubted the ground would come before the fire, but a man can hope, can he not?

Then, before he even registered what was happening, he hit the ground. Hard.

A jab of pain shot through his shoulder and the prince held his breath, waiting for fire that never came. Instead, he heard a jumble of shouted words, (something among the lines of '_Sceld_' or '_Scield_', but he couldn't be sure) a weird kind of swishing sound and the distinct and unmistakable hiss of fire licking at something.

When he could hear nothing but silence (the word silence is used here in the relative sense of no sounds of incoming weapons or spells aimed at him, the background noise of the battle being enough to bring a headache to the head of any sane person who was not otherwise occupied with running or fighting for their lives) and the slight scent of burnt grass reached his nostrils, Arthur decided to open his eyes. There wasn't anything that opening his eyes might have done to worsen his very bad situation, anyway.

The prince propped himself weakly on his elbow, ignoring the pain shooting up his shoulder blades, and focusing all the energy he had left on trying to see through the thick smoke. He was very sure there was a figure there, looming over him in the smoke, if slightly a pace or two in front of him.

Arthur's eyes widened and he didn't think before a hopeful, slightly incredulous and worried squeak (he would deny that later) of: "_Merlin?_" escaped his lips.

The mop of dark raven hair was clearly visible now that the smoke had cleared, as were the warlock's ragged and dirty jacket, blackened holes stretching on either side of his arms. Very visible as well was Merlin's outstretched hand and the glowing blue light that swayed and rippled like water, making it hard, but not impossible, for him to spot the dark figure of a very enraged Morgana on the other side of it.

"_You_" Arthur heard her spit with so much hatred he cringed. (Later, he would have a lot of things to deny)

Merlin did not so much as flinch at her words. For a couple of seconds, the prince wondered if perhaps his friend had heard Morgana speak at all, but then he suddenly turned those blue eyes on him, and he was stunned by the intensity and determination in them.

"_Fæþm_" the warlock said, his words clear and brooking no argument.

Arthur was amazed, amazed beyond what he would ever admit, even to himself, by the authority, the confidence, the sheer power and control Merlin, his goofy, babbling fool of a manservant that tripped over his own feet every five minutes, seemed to have in him.

The boy was so… so… oxymoronic. There was no other word for it. He was a living, breathing contradiction. He was funny and frightening, an idiot and one of the wisest man Arthur had ever met, merciful yet very much capable of killing without a second thought (though he took no pleasure from it). He was loyal to a fault and had the most pure intentions, yet he had done and would do unforgivable things. He was a lanky, skinny boy who stumbled over his own feet and refused to get angry even when put in the stocks for a whole day, that had the power to raze entire kingdoms to the ground.

Arthur knew in that moment that he would never come to fully understand Merlin, but he didn't think even the warlock could understand himself. He was too busy just _being_ to try and dwell on it.

Merlin's eyes burned a fierce gold for a split of a second and all that blue light protecting them suddenly floated straight at him.

The prince startled, the light hitting him square in the chest, momentarily blinding him.

A warm tingling washed over him. Then, as soon as it came, it was gone, and Arthur opened his eyes to find his hands (and the rest of his body, if the tingling had been anything to go by) shimmering blue.

He raised his gaze back to his manservant, realizing what the boy had just done, but Merlin had already turned his attention back on Morgana.

"It's over" he announced, and Arthur believed him, even though, judging by the mad laughter of his sister, she certainly did not.

"Oh, how right you are" Okay, maybe she did, but her idea of 'over' was obviously different from the warlock's.

"You have been a thorn in my side for too long, _Emrys_." Morgana started walking slowly towards them, her unkept hair swaying in the wind, curling around her face. For a second, Arthur saw her dressed in a beautiful red dress, a golden chain at the base of her neck and a thin black and gold circlet adorning her forehead, walking toward him with the same small, swaying steps, all eyes on her as she smiled at him teasingly, warmly.

And then the image changed back, black replacing the Pendragon red, no jewelry at the base of her long neck, her dark locks dirty and ruffled by the wind, no circlet on her forehead and no warmth in her eyes. She still walked the same, though, her smirk darker and vengeful.

"To think that I've been searching for you, _fearing _you for all this time, when in truth you were right here. Right under my nose. The stupid, traitorous servant of my dear brother. _Merlin_" she spat the name, a snarl overcoming the smile. "You have betrayed your people, protected the man who has done nothing but persecute and hate us. You deserve what is to come."

Morgana suddenly stopped, raising her hand slowly, and Arthur noticed Merlin still didn't move, his shoulders slumping a bit.

"Please, Morgana. _Please._" The prince felt his heart tear at the plea. The wall of stone Merlin had built broke for just that second, that small whisper holding all of his fear, guilt, grief and hope. He felt his heart sink.

"To think that I was afraid of someone like _you_"

And then it began. They both yelled strange, foreign words he couldn't comprehend, and lights of all colors danced through the air. The warlock and the witch dodged and ducked and shielded themselves from the spells flying back and forth so fast Arthur could barely make out who was doing what.

And then he had no time to see the spell sending Merlin flying on his back as the warlock's attention switched just for a moment to him, enough to yell a warning and enough for Morgana to strike.

"Arthur!"

The prince rolled out of the way just as the sword planted itself in the ground, exactly where his head had been moments before.

He had no time to worry about Merlin, though he knew the boy must have recovered, for he could hear him shouting a spell. He had no time as his eyes locked onto that traitor of an uncle of his.

"Hello Arthur" Agravaine smiled, then swung his sword at him.

* * *

Gwaine was winning. Yes, he was aware that they, as a group-as a _side-_were losing, but he himself was winning. Every adversary he had faced until then had fallen under his swift and steady sword.

He was tired, yes, but he grinned as he managed to strike down two bulky and stupid mercenaries (that he believed were twins) with one careful swing of his sword.

The knight had no idea where the others were, but there was this thin druid with a broken arm hovering behind him. The lad was barely seventeen, he suspected, lanky and small for his age, and was shaking furiously. However, the knight admired the fact that he remained at his side, sending a weak, yet very useful spell now and then, tripping his foes or deflecting balls of fire he could not be bothered with.

Gwaine shot him a look. His cloak was nearly ripped to pieces, torn and burnt, and his clothes were dirty, but otherwise he was fine. Well, except for shaking like a leaf in the wind, that is, but even Gwaine wasn't cruel enough to mock him at the moment.

"You alright there, mate?"

The boy nodded shakily, and Gwaine looked around, trying to spot any of his friends.

That was when he heard a loud bang coming from somewhere to the east, and he narrowed his eyes, squinting and trying to see where exactly it had come from. Gwaine's eyes widened and he suddenly turned on the boy.

"Go and hide in the trees" he ordered, and didn't look back to see if the lad had listened as he sprinted towards Arthur.

A large thug suddenly cut his path, but the knight turned in a swift circle, drawing the blade of his sword graciously across the other man's chest as he twirled, then stepped to the side and ran even faster, not missing a single beat.

He could see Morgana and Merlin running in circles around each other, throwing themselves to the ground and sprinting from here to there, shouting nonsense, and were it not for the colorful lights and fire shooting to and fro, he would have labeled them as two madmen doing some weird tribal dance.

As it was, his stomach gripped in both fear for his friend and hatred for the woman he was fighting, but he was smart enough to know there was nothing he could do to help. Whatever the warlock had begun he would have to end by himself.

However, Gwaine sped up, running as fast as his feet could carry him, his attention switching and locking on the somehow weaponless prince, who barely seemed to be able to dodge the attacks of his uncle. How had the prat (to use Merlin's word) managed to get himself into a _swordless_ position, the knight would never understand.

Just as Agravaine lifted his sword again, ready to strike, Gwaine leapt one last time and threw his sword at Arthur's head, hoping he wouldn't accidentally kill the prince. (He had a nagging sensation a certain very powerful warlock friend of his would not like that very much)

"Arthur!" he yelled.

To his horror, he saw Agravaine catching to his idea at the same time as the prince of Camelot and something he hadn't even considered happened: Agravaine caught the sword.

The look Arthur threw him would have been very amusing in any other situation.

Gwaine started to run again, trying to stop the (now two) swords from reaching the prince's chest, even though he knew he was too late, even though the horror gripped his stomach and twisted a knife in his heart.

The two blades came down in slow motion, and the knight knew he wouldn't make it, couldn't make it, it was over. He couldn't help the desperate yell from escaping his lips.

"ARTHUR!"

* * *

**There you go. I was actually planning on adding a lot more stuff in this chapter, but somehow it ended up half of what it was supposed to be. It all took much more longer than I expected, and I am aware that some of you might think it's moving too slow. I have big plans including lots more events unfolding in the next chapter though, as well as that explanation of how things came to be the way they are. **

**I can't help the words from getting their way, however, so I make no promises. I'm as curious as you are to see what exactly will happen next. Yes, I do know what will happen, but as always, it is merely a rough sketch. **

**Thank you for reading and sticking up with this story:D I will try and keep away from cliffhangers, but they're just so fun and, quite frankly, addictive. **

**Until either this Saturday or Sunday^^ (I have a nagging feeling it will be this Saturday, though) **


	13. Chapter 13

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains. **

**Hello. I am very tired and I apologize for possible grammar/spelling mistakes. If you see anything that doesn't make sense, please don't hesitate to tell me. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

Isaac had been arranging twigs of different sizes in the pile in front of him: a poor attempt to start a fire, when it happened.

Their camp was a small one. Well, a relatively small one. Let's just say it was a medium-sized camp. They were also moving quite often, every couple of months or so, sometimes even less than that, depending on, well, a lot of things: such as their leader, their location, the wars of the kingdoms they happened to be in, and so on and so forth.

Right now, they were in the forest of Helios, which although one of the most beautiful forests the boy had ever seen in all his eighteen years of life (and Isaac had seen more than his fair share of forests), was way too close to the infamous Camelot for most of them to feel anything other than fidgety and anxious to move again.

Isaac himself wasn't quite sure how he felt about it. Yeah, he _was_ terrified. But that wasn't a new feeling at all. All of them lived with the constant threat of being burnt at the stake or decapitated looming over them. Even though some kingdoms did allow magic, one could never truly shake off the fear as long as one was on the same continent as Uther's kingdom. The king might not know it, but his hatred of magic had spread well beyond his own kingdom, and it wasn't just the people who were afraid. Some kings had even begun to doubt their own laws, and mercenaries were always hiding behind every corner, ready to catch an unprepared sorcerer and present him to Uther. The rather large sums of money the king offered to anyone who "brought a sorcerer to justice" had more than helped in creating more and more spies and bounty hunters.

So even if you happened to be ten kingdoms away, in a place where magic was absolutely legal, you still had to be careful of where and in front of whom you chose to make a display of you gifts, lest you end up in a cage on its way to Camelot.

The Great Purge had done more than just rid Camelot of all magic. It had begun something far greater than that.

As a result, most of the druids in Iseldir's camp were more than anxious to put as much distance as possible between them and the citadel.

However, for the past four years or so, their leader seemed to always come back to Camelot. The furthest from Uther's kingdom they'd been in the past years had been a week's ride-not nearly enough. And the man somehow always seemed to be drawing closer and closer.

That made most of the people annoyed. It even explained how their camp had gone from a rather large camp to a medium-sized one.

But not Isaac. No, Isaac had grown among Iseldir's druids and would remain there. The boy had never met his father, but his mother had been fiercely loyal to the druid chieftain. She died when he was no older than six, and since then Iseldir had taken to taking care of him, from a certain distance. He was like an uncle to him; Isaac even considered him the father he had never had (although he would never admit it in front of the man, he was too shy and fearful of the feeling not being mutual for that). So where Iseldir went, Isaac went, even if it meant camping for a whole week at merely two days' ride from Camelot.

He had heard rumors, though. Rumors that the reason why their leader picked such dangerous spots for their camp was because Emrys might have come and was supposedly in Camelot.

Of course, Isaac had dismissed such ridiculous rumors. Emrys, in Camelot! To him, Emrys was no more than a prophecy gone wrong at best, so the very thought of the warlock being actually flesh and bones was laughable. For Emrys to be in Camelot… Isaac hadn't even laughed, but completely ignored the idea. Iseldir had his reasons, he was sure of it, and he would tell them when and if he saw fit. There was no point in making up such stupid stories.

Isaac hadn't believed Emrys was real for one second. Until that day.

He was trying to get a fire started, as dusk was approaching fast and the air had shed its warmth for a skin-biting chill, when the commotion started.

At first, he had ignored the disruption of the usual peace and quiet. It wasn't that uncommon for a fight to break out, even among them. Besides, it could always be some old druid stumbling upon their camp and deciding to pay a visit-that did the trick too. Whenever any old friend popped by, the whole camp would turn upside down, everyone making a huge fuss over it.

However, the loud voices hadn't even raised properly before they all suddenly died down.

Isaac raised his gaze, his fingers faltering over the pile of twigs and branches. His big brown eyes looked up, scanning the backs of his druid friends.

Something shifted at the front of the crowd, and the boy squinted his eyes. He stood up, trying to make out what was going on in there, but before he could approach the mass of people he realized what was happening. Ever so slowly, all of the druids were falling to one knee, heads bowed in what could only be respect.

His eyebrows were having a hard time deciding whether to frown or raise high in disbelief. What the hell was happening?

Before he knew it, all of them were kneeling, thus making it possible for him to see just who they were kneeling to.

At the front of the crowd, Isaac could see his fatherly figure, Iseldir, kneeling as well in front of a rather small group of men.

There were six of them. All of them, with the exception of one, were well-built and muscled, and even though their clothing matched that of ordinary peasants, the way they held themselves spoke volumes. They clearly were soldiers, all of them, and if the subtle details didn't tell you that, it could clearly be seen in the blood that stained their tunics, the lack of serious injuries meaning that said blood did not belong to them.

Another thing that could be easily read from their appearance was that the tall, blond man was clearly in charge of the others. He held himself the highest, his stance proud and confident, four of the other men all standing behind him, looking ready to draw their swords should anyone even think of harming the blond, or if the man himself told them to.

There was one thing that didn't fit though. The tall blond was the leader, Isaac was sure of it, so what was that skinny, lanky boy with raven hair and blue eyes doing right next to him? They couldn't be the same rank, that was sure, for although they stood side by side, the raven-haired looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes flickering from the druids knelt before them to the man next to him.

Suddenly realizing he was the only one standing, even though the group pf men couldn't really see him from back where he was, Isaac decided it was better if he just went with the flow. So he knelt, too, although his head wasn't bowed, but turned upwards expectantly. The boy was curious as to what this could mean.

"Right" the raven-haired man started, looking every bit as uncomfortable as the blond looked confident. The latter elbowed him in the side, and the lanky boy threw him a glare that lasted only a second, before his face took again a look of discomfort.

He took a very small step forwards.

"Um… you-you don't have to bow." He muttered, and Isaac was a bit taken aback. They were all bowing to _him_? That's what they were doing? He noticed one of the other strangers (the only one with longer hair an whose stance wasn't so stiff, but casual and even bored) roll his eyes.

Immediately, Iseldir glanced up an nodded, standing up.

"As you wish"

The other druids followed and he too stood, a bit annoyed that he now couldn't see the group of strange men over the heads of the others.

Isaac stepped to the side, trying to get a better view, but it was useless.

He grinned, an idea coming to him, and he slipped around the edge of the crowd, advancing through the trees until he was near the front. He could see the men more clearly now, and they couldn't even spot him.

Finally, the boy with blue eyes drew in a deep breath and started talking, his voice clear and strong.

"People with magic have been persecuted ever since king Uther enforced the ban." He began, and a loud murmur spread through the forest, the people shifting and glancing at one another.

"Many of you think that his son is the same. That his views on magic are the same as his father's. That he will continue the work of Uther, persecuting innocents whose only crime is being born with an ability.

Many of you are wrong"

The silence was disrupted once again, the people protesting loudly.

One (Isaac was sure that was Gael, a boy his age who never failed to make his opinion known and whose hatred of Uther and his son was more often than not more powerful than reason) voice even rose above the others, yelling that "Pendragons are all murderers!"

The boy with black hair held his hand up, something shifting in his stance, his blue eyes now angry and sparkling with something that wasn't there before. Power.

Silence fell again over the druids.

"I will say this once and for all" his eyes quickly scanned the crowd, a warning in his tone. "Arthur Pendragon is _not_ his father.

"He is a man that will become the greatest king to have ever lived. He is honest and loyal, kind and strong and fair to his people. His visions on magic have been, until recently, similar to those of his father, yes. But that is only a consequence of having been brought up with those beliefs.

"The countless sorcerers that have tried to conquer Camelot and hurt the ones he loves have given him proof to believe that magic is indeed evil. Who can really blame him, if we have never showed him anything different?"

There was an ominous shrug from the crowd, some shifting uncomfortably. That was true: no doubt every magic user the prince had encountered had only meant harm. Nobody could argue with that.

"I ask you, what would you have believed? What would your beliefs be if, even if you suspected magic isn't evil-despite everyone telling you it is-every encounter with magic only served to further prove those who hate it right?"

The raven-haired man scanned the crowd.

"Arthur Pendragon has known of my magic for almost two months now." There was a general gasp from the druids. One from the group, the bored-looking one, smirked, and Isaac could see the blond one's eyes sparkle, too. "He has done nothing to harm me or turn me in to his father. Even if Uther is not well, as most of you know, the knowledge that his son's manservant had magic would have certainly awakened him enough to see me executed."

There was another general gasp. So this man was the prince's manservant? Why were they bowing to him, if that was the case? Surely, even if he did have magic, that wasn't reason enough to bow to him?

Isaac looked the boy up and down once again. He closed his eyes and focused, trying to remember his lessons.

All druids were taught young how to gauge another's power. He himself wasn't very good at it, though. Most of the elders were experts, they cold tell you how much magic a person had before they even saw that person. Iseldir was amongst these men, he could sense magic before it was even there.

Isaac was different. He had never been very good at "sensing" magic. He had to take his time, focus very hard. Sometimes, if the amount of magic one had was very small, he couldn't sense it at all.

Isaac breathed in, the familiar sensation of magic surrounding him. He could feel the magic of the crowd, but he couldn't tell one person from the other. It was like a tangled mass of magic of various sizes, colors and shapes, all jumbled up together.

Further away, the boy felt the familiar magic of Iseldir, one of the strongest in their camp. For some unknown reason, he had always associated it with the color of the summer sky: a deep, clear blue.

The boy tried to focus his senses on the group of strangers, namely the raven-hair. He felt nothing coming from that group, at least not from the others, and he thought the lanky man himself didn't posses any power at first.

But then it hit him, and Isaac gasped and drew back, his eyes shooting open. He couldn't believe he hadn't sensed it before. His magic was enormous!

But then again, it was probably why he never sensed it until then: the magic of the boy was so powerful, so pure and so… huge-just so huge that he had brushed it aside, confusing it with the natural magic of the earth.

The boy had so much magic in him he was practically made of power.

Isaac's mind was reeling, his gaze on the skinny form of the blue-eyed boy.

He had never heard of anyone who possessed so much magic. He probably had more magic in one finger that had Iseldir in his whole body!

And then, just like that, one word echoed in his mind, shedding light on everything. _Emrys_. Could the legends be true?

Isaac had drifted away, tuning out whatever the man with the incredible amount of magic had said in the last minute or so. But his words now shook him out of the trance, ringing loudly in his ears.

"Many of you don't know me but by the name Emrys. I come here today in that quality, asking you to help me win Camelot from the hands of the witch Morgana. To help me fight for freedom and magic, alongside none other than the king who will free us all: Arthur"

Isaac leaned on the tree next to him, not having any more shock to spare for the new revelation as the blond-Arthur Pendragon-stepped forward.

Emrys wasn't a myth. It was real. He was real. He was here. With Arthur Pendragon, of all people. Arthur Pendragn knew Emrys. Emrys was Arthur Pendragon's manservant. Arthur Pendragon and Emrys were here.

The crowd flinched back as they realized who the blond man was. One would have trouble cutting the tension that ensued with a sword, never mind a knife.

"I am Arthur Pedragon, son of Uther Pendragon and crowned prince of Camelot." The man said, his voice echoing in the silence.

Not even the rustle of leaves could be heard.

"I come here today to make an apology, ask for help, and make a promise." Arthur stole a glance at Merlin, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"I apologize for the actions of my father and my own. We were wrong to persecute and hunt you. It is unforgivable."

Another pause. The crowd stared back at him, a mass of saucer-sized eyes.

"I ask for your help today, even though I do not deserve it. I ask of you to fight with me for a world in which we will have peace, both magical and non-magical people, side by side.

"And I promise you this: under my reign, not a single hand will dare raise against a person with magic. Sorcery will be allowed and welcomed in my kingdom, and people will be judged by actions alone. I do not intend to follow my father. I am not my father.

"I am Arthur Pendragon and today I ask that we fight together, for the love of Albion"

Merlin couldn't help but grin at the gasp that echoed though the wood at the mention of the prophesied kingdom. He threw a knowing look at Iseldir, who nodded and gave him a small smile of his own.

"I'll fight with you, Pendragon" the voice was followed by a man in his forties, a dark green cloak covering his shoulders. He limped towards the front, the other druids making way for him.

Arthur smiled at him, giving a court nod.

"You have my support, Arthur Pendragon, Emrys" Iseldir said, nodding in acknowledgment at each of them.

"And mine" said a young woman, her red hair tumbling in waves over her shoulders. A small girl, the same brilliant red hair curling around her face, popped her head from behind her mother's leg.

"I fight with mommy" she announced, then immediately blushed and hid her head behind her mother's emerald dress. The woman patted her, smiling.

"And I" rose another.

"Count me in"

"Me too"

"I will fight with you, Emrys, for the future"

"For the future!" "For the future!" "For the future!"

Before they realized it, Merlin was nudging Arthur's shoulder lightly as cheers of "For the future!" echoed through the old trees.

"For the future, your Pratness" beamed the warlock, and Arthur couldn't contain his own smile. They did it.

"For the future, Merlin. For the future."

* * *

**This chapter was definitely not what I had planned. Here was supposed to be explained everything. **

**Again, I am presented with proof that I cannot possibly correctly estimate the length of my stories. This took a lot longer than I expected. **

**I reckon there will be at least two more chapters. When everything makes sense, you'll know it's nearly the end. **

**Anyway, I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but I hope you liked it. Tell me what you think? **

**Thank you and see you on Wednesday. **

**Until then^^ **


	14. Chapter 14

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains. **

**Hello everybody. Here is the new chapter, as promised. **

**Without further ado, **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_Merlin brought his palm closer to the dancing flames, stopping them just before the heat increased to a stinging level. _

_He could see the steam that swirled into the air, puffs of white vanishing almost as soon as they were created, as he blew out a breath. He glanced at the others. All of them were spread around the fire, hunched ever so slightly towards the blaze in an attempt to get as close to the warmth as they could. _

_He felt the cold bite into his back as he watched Elyan rub his hands up and down his arms, while Arthur glared at Gwaine as the latter took a swig from a small and familiar "water" skin. _

"_Gwaine" the prince threatened, sending him that look that would've had all of the junior or trainee knights scurrying away. _

_However, the knight in question paid him no heed, a smirk slowly setting into place across his face. _

"_Oh, I'm sorry, my _lord_. How very rude of me. Would you like a sip, your Highness?" _

_Percival sighed as Arthur's glove found a way to fly at Gwaine's head. The prince then proceeded to realize that with the glove off, his left hand was left exposed to the biting cold, and as such straightened his back and used that do-as-your-prince-commands-or-else tone of voice to tell Gwaine: "I'm going to need that back" _

_The knight gave a loud laugh and waved the glove in front of his face, his smirk bigger than ever. _

"_You want it, you're gonna have to come and get it, princess" _

_Merlin didn't hear what Arthur said next, as a weird yet familiar feeling enveloped him. It felt like a sort of tingling coming from deep in the pit of his stomach, spreading throughout his body, but never quite reaching the skin. It was an exhilarating and annoying feeling at the same time, like when you're waiting for the right moment to burst into gallop with your horse, holding its reigns and feeling the animal shift beneath you impatiently. _

"_He's here" the warlock announced, causing Arthur's outraged scowl (Merlin didn't even want to know) to morph into a skeptic frown. _

"_And you know that because… ?" Arthur's voice dripped sarcasm. _

"_I can feel it" the warlock deadpanned, giving his best friend a look that clearly said "Duh". _

"_It's just a wild guess, but it's probably because he's a warlock and a dragonlord" Gwaine grinned at the prince, whose face slipped back into the scowl. _

_Merlin rolled his eyes and stood up, feeling his stiff back ache in protest. He threw an envious look at the future-king's and his knight's cloaks, suddenly aware of his own very thin jacket, then started to walk away from their fire. _

"_Let's go" Percival told Elyan and Leon, and together they followed the warlock, leaving an annoyed prince and a stubborn knight to their staring contest. _

_The distant beating of wings stopped said contest not long after, and the two mutually agreed to a truce for the time being, as they too went to stand at the edge of the clearing behind Merlin, who was squinting his eyes at a dark spot now visible on the sky. _

_The spot grew bigger and bigger, until it slowly took the shape of a dragon. _

_Merlin cursed Kilgharrah as the cold wind had him gritting his teeth and watering his eyes, not really caring that it wasn't really the dragon's fault. (Wind was but a natural side effect of landing, but the warlock decided to promptly ignore that fact) _

_He could feel a group of nervous knights stiffening behind him and resisted the urge to turn around. _

_Instead, he bowed his head at the ancient creature before him. "Kilgharrah" _

_The dragon eyed the knights with almost-not-concealed shock, then bowed to the warlock. _

_This time, Merlin heard the sharp intake of breaths from behind him and couldn't contain his smirk. Well, he guessed that the sight of a huge dragon thousands of years old bowing to a skinny manservant wasn't something they expected, and even though he tried to send the egocentric thoughts away, he found that they wouldn't go. So he again used the art he was a master in: he ignored them. _

"_Thanks for answering my call so _quickly_" Merlin told the annoying dragon, now that the formalities were done with. _

_The dragon had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes at the sarcasm. (In the end, he decided that would not go well with the image of ancient, powerful and wise, riddle-talking creature of magic) _

"_I must remind you that I am not always close, young warlock" _

"_I could've been dying!" Merlin threw his arms into the air, waving them frantically as he tried to express exactly what he thought of the dragon's excuse. They had, after all, been waiting for four hours, and it was well past dinner-time. _

"_Then you must be grateful that you were not" _

_The boy sighed at Kilgharrah. The dragon was talking in that drawl of a voice, using the very-wise-dragon-here-behold-and-be-impressed kind of tone, the one he had used when he had first met him. Merlin had to admit to himself, though, it had worked that time. He had been impressed and even scared of the great beast. But that was before he had gotten to know him. (And his damn riddles!) _

"_I see the young Arthur Pendragon has finally found out about you powers" Kilgharrah observed, and Merlin nodded, concealing the uneasy feeling that came with the reminder (the prince had been slightly distant as of late, and even though most didn't notice that, he did) then turned to the prince in question. _

"_Arthur, this" he gestured vaguely towards the great figure looming over them. "is Kilgharrah" _

"_The _great_ dragon" he added with an eye roll at the glare sent by the dragon. _

_Merlin felt Arthur stiffen as he moved to stand beside him. _

"_Pleased to meet you" The dragon gave a nod. "And I you" _

_After a moment of silence, just as Merlin was opening his mouth to speak, Arthur took a small step forward and bowed his head in respect, thet looked up at Kilgharrah. _

"_I wish to apologize for my father's actions on his behalf. It was wrong of him to do as he has done, and even though the last time we have met was on rather… unpleasant terms, I do hope we can start over." _

_Merlin couldn't hide the small smile playing across his lips as his chest swelled with pride. Kilgharrah regarded the small prince before him with an unreadable look, then proceeded to bow in front of Arthur as he had in front of his lord. _

"_It seems destiny has chosen right, young Pendragon." He drawled, then straightened. "I too must apologize for my behavior. My actions were rash and selfish, blinded my my hatred for you father. However, I do believe it is time for us to put the past behind." _

_Merlin watched Arthur as he gave a court nod, followed by "I'd be glad to do so". He couldn't read the prince's expression, though, not this time, so he shrugged it off. They had some rather urgent matters to deal with, and hopefully they would finish before he froze over. _

_Suppressing a shudder at the sudden reminder of the cold, Merlin turned his gaze back up on the dragon. _

"_Right" he started. "I called you to ask for your help with something" _

"_As usual" _

_Merlin sent the dragon a deathly glare while Gwiane couldn't contain the loud laugh. Trust Gwaine to find the amusing side of the situation. _

_Kilgharrah eyed the knight with amusement. _

"_It seems at least one of you recognizes the truth in my words" _

_The warlock muttered something along the lines of "Great! Kilgharrah and Gwaine on the same side", before he again addressed the dragon, if a bit harsh. _

"_I need you to take me and some of my friends to a hut that's near the Helios woods tomorrow morning, at dawn. It's nearly a two days' ride from Camelot, but we need to be there faster" _

_At this, the dragon's face turned into an outraged snarl that caused an unanimous cringe among the knights, even Arthur. Only Merlin seemed unfazed by the sudden roar of the great beast. _

"_I have told you before, young warlock, that I am _not_ a horse!" _

_The warlock rolled his eyes. "I believe everyone's pretty much convinced of that." _

"_I refuse to be used as a mere mule just so-" _

"_It will help defeat Morgana" Merlin's words cut the dragon off mid-sentence, and he turned to stare at the young boy with a look that was clearly doubting his words. _

"_And how, might I ask, is this going to be the witch's undoing?" _

_Merlin sighed and proceeded to explain their plan, making sure to stress out the fact that it had not been his idea and that he did not agree with it in the slightest, therefore he would not be responsible for any flaws that might prove to lead to failure. _

_The dragon snorted, and Merlin was extremely relieved to see that at least someone (even if that someone was a dragon) agreed with him. _

"_And you need me to take you there before this Agravaine or the witch arrive?" _

_Kilgharrah had made a point of never mentioning Morgana's name, instead always calling her "the witch". Merlin nodded. _

"_Yeah, that's the plan." _

_The dragon stared at the sky, seeming to ponder the information for a while. _

"_The witch is, indeed, not known for taking the time to think before she acts. She might set for this hut you have told of as soon as she hears of it. However…" Merlin didn't like the sound of that, but he knew what was probably coming, for he too had expressed all of those worries. His subsequent protests had, unfortunately, fallen on deaf ears, and now it was too late to turn back. _

"_However?" Arthur asked, and Merlin turned to stare at him incredulously. The boy shook it off at a glare from the prince, trying and failing to hide the smile tugging at his lips. The prince of Camelot had not only apologized to the dragon that had attacked his city nearly two years and a half ago, but was now plotting with him. Talking to him. _

"_What it is you plan on doing if the witch chooses not to act and let you capture Emrys? It would be wiser to do so, and even though I sometimes doubt the witch's patience I do not doubt her intelligence." _

_Merlin turned to Arthur with a look that said "See? I'm not the only one.", but he knew the prince had an answer ready. _

"_We plan to capture Emrys-I mean Merlin in that ridiculous disguise-" he scowled at his manservant, who had just elbowed him in the ribs. "and then take him to the dungeons and, well… " the prince didn't look too proud of what he was going to say. "... then I guess Emrys will somehow escape just before execution." _

_Dragon and dragonlord both regarded the supposed strategist prodigy with a far from impressed look. _

_Arthur gave up. "It's always possible that my uncle will try something if we capture Emrys, given that he's probably sure he'd escape. That way, we might catch him red-handed" _

_The dragon sighed heavily, before nodding slowly. _

"_I agree there is nothing to it. Let us hope that the witch will fall right into your hands. Although" the dragon turned his golden eyes on Merlin, the concern hidden there not going unnoticed by the group. "If that is the case, do you think you can deal with her, young warlock?" _

_Merlin shuffled a bit under Kilgharrah's gaze. He had thought about that for some time. He was sure his magic was stronger, there was no doubt in that. Bu there was also the fact that he was going to have to protect Gwaine and Percival, (they had convinced Arthur that he had to stay behind with Leon and Elyan, otherwise there was no one to lead the attack on the supposed sorcerer threatening the kingdom, and all of them suddenly disappearing would've raised suspicions) as well as something he had not told anyone: that he couldn't kill Morgana. If push came to shove though… no, the boy wasn't sure he could kill her even then. He didn't know why, he supposed he still felt guilty and believed she might somehow come back, even if he knew in his heart that it was too late. He just couldn't completely let go. _

_He had been researching, however, the weeks he'd been bedridden, and he had found a spell that could temporary bind someone's magic. He planned to use that, and then capture her with the help of Gwaine and Percival and bring her back to Camelot. _

_But with his luck, he could never tell. And Merlin was aware that where luck was involved, if something could go terribly wrong, than it would. _

"_I think so…" he said, the look the dragon sent him nearly matching Gaius' Eyebrow. _

_Finally, the dragon gave a long sigh. _

"_I shall help you, young warlock, young Pendragon, knights of Camelot. I will be here tomorrow at first light. Do not keep me waiting" _

_Merlin grinned, brushing his worries away for the time being. _

"_Thank you" he told him, and he meant it. _

_The dragon acknowledged his thanks with a nod, then proceeded to bat his wings as he prepared to take off into the air, but not before he threw all of them a warning look. _

"_But remember that I am only doing this because I wish to see the witch defeated and Albion united. I will not be used as a means of transportation in the future" _

_With that, the dragon flew away, the wind nearly knocking the knights and warlock off their feet. _

"_Sure you won't" Merlin muttered, even if Kilgharrah couldn't hear him any longer. And if, by some miracle, he did, he ignored him. _

_Merlin turned to find five dumbfounded knights with ruffled hair and disheveled clothes staring after the dragon. He grinned. It seemed they had finally let the shock take over, now that the dragon was gone. _

"_Let's go. I'm freezing" he said in an overly cheerful voice, trotting happily past them. _

_Although, he had to hand it to them, they had held it together in a very impressive way, for men who had no means of protecting themselves against such an enemy. _

_Nearing their horses and starting to untie the ropes with which they (him) had tethered them to some trees, Merlin's worries started to creep back up on him. He just hoped everything would go according to plan._

* * *

**This was it. **

**So, I wasn't planning on this little flashback, I actually had a chapter written in present time, but it just felt like this needed to be here. There was way too much to explain and I couldn't just fit all of that into one chapter... you'll see what I mean when I post it. **

**I hope you liked it and I thank you all for reading. You are wonderful and this story would be nothing without you:) I rather enjoyed writing this, so I hope you did, too. **

**I will be updating in three days' time, as usual. **

**Until Saturday^^ **


	15. Chapter 15

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains. **

**Hello there. This is the new chapter, and yeah, it's another flashback, I know, but it's the last one. Trust me, it needs to be here, I promise. **

**Well, hope you like it. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_There was a knock on the door, and Helios raised his gaze as he uttered a short "Enter", faltering in the sharpening of his sword. _

_Helios liked his sword. Well, he liked all kinds of weapons, the sharper the better, and was an expert in handling most of them, but this particular sword he liked the best. And because of that reason he preferred to sharpen it himself. _

_The man stared the scrawny servant down, the young boy trying very hard (and failing) not to tremble under his piercing gaze. _

"_M-My lord" he bowed, Helios not even blinking. He was rather enjoying this. "T-The Lady Morgana has arrived a-and wishes to see you now, m-my lord" _

_Morgana was here? But why would the witch come? After all , they had agreed to meet a week from now. The man put his sword on the table. Something must have happened. _

"_Send her in" he told the boy, offering him a glare even though the young servant had done nothing wrong. The boy visibly flinched, trying to hide the movement in the very low bow he made before he scurried out of the room. _

_After he was gone, Helios stared at the fire in the hearth. What could have gotten his new ally so worked up that she would come to him so soon after their last meeting? _

_He had met Morgana a month before. She had just come to him, sort of demanding his help. _

_Helios remembered being in the middle of a feast, celebrating a particular fun and fruitful raid of a castle of a small noble with his men, when a guard came in and announced someone wanted to see him. Of course, he had been very not in the mood for any meetings of any sort and told the guard to get rid of whoever it was. _

_In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have done that, for he lost three guards that night. He had barely returned to his feast when the doors suddenly banged open all by themselves, a woman clad in a long, dark cloak with the hood shadowing her face from view stepping casually into the room. _

_That was how Helios had come to know Morgana. _

_The witch was, in his opinion, a bit mad in her obsessive hatred towards the Pendragons (not that he had anything against that, he actually liked it), very extremely lacking in patience and, he couldn't help but notice, beautiful; and had it been anyone else, he might have tried something on her. (He was, after all, known for both his strength and cruelty _and_ for his charm) However, the fear of being killed at a moment's notice had put a damper on his ideas. _

_Morgana had come to "offer" him the chance of taking Camelot and killing both the king and his son in a very painful way. The warlord was no fool though. He knew the witch couldn't possibly manage what she was planning on her own, that was why she had enlisted him. _

_However, Helios himself had quite the grudge against Uther, whose knights had killed most of his men when he was young and part of a band of mercenaries. He had never particularly liked his son either. Also, should they succeed, he was in for quite the feasts and would be very high up on the social scale, given that Morgana would be the queen. _

_As a result, he agreed. _

_So here he was, standing up to greet her as the witch strutted into his room like she owned the place, lowering her hood dramatically as she greeted him, her fingers clad in dark velvet. _

"_Helios" _

"_Morgana" he smiled, the fact that she didn't return his smile only making his smile bigger. _

_The witch sat down across from him._

"_I have news that I think will interest you" Now she smiled. Or rather smirked. Helios knew something good must have happened, for Morgana only smiled/smirked when she was torturing someone or when she had something good coming. Well, something bad by the common definition. _

"_Go on" he told her, taking a long sip from his wine. _

_He was expecting to hear that her new plan, something involving siege tunnels, was finally falling into place, or maybe that she had found a better one. He didn't, however, expected what came instead. _

"_There is a man called _Emrys_" she spat the name, a snarl taking the place of the smirk. "he is my enemy." _

_Helios had no idea where this was going, but in the short time that he'd known her, he knew that nothing good ever came when Morgana's eyes had _that _gleam in them. _

"_All right, I'm listening" _

"_Arthur Pendragon is going to reach Emry's hideout in two days' time and is planning on capturing him." _

"_Well, that's great news then." The warlord took another swig of his expensive wine. "I don't really see how it concerns me, but congratulations" _

_Morgana's smirk grew. "Ah, but you see, Arthur has no hope of killing this sorcerer. He is too strong." _

"_So?" _

_Helios could see Morgana was growing impatient, even though it really was her fault she wasn't giving him more information. Honestly, the woman was sometimes hard to be around. _

"_Emrys must die. He's a traitor to our kind, has been helping the Pendragons all this time and has thwarted my plans for far too long. That's why I want you to help me kill him. Emrys must not escape this time." _

_Helios regarded the woman before him with a glint of curiosity. Her dark curls were framing her face, falling onto the black velvet covering her shoulders. Her eyes were dark and sharp, her cheekbones visible on her pale face. All dressed in black like that, velvet and lace, her skin looked even paler. _

_The warlord sighed. She wouldn't take no for an answer. _

"_What do you want me to do?" _

_Morgana gave a small smirk, then her face turned serious again. Sometimes she was no fun at all. _

"_I want you to give me five of your best men. They will travel with me and we will eliminate the threat of this Emrys before Arthur even gets there."_

* * *

_Merlin eyed the small hut before him curiously. He had no idea who had lived there, but whoever had they must have been long gone. _

_It was very small and made of crumbling wood, vines snaking along the rotten logs that were barely held together by seemingly sheer force of will. _

_There were weeds and all sorts of plants surrounding it, and he could see the trees marking the beginning of the forest not far behind it. If that was the outside, Merlin wasn't sure he wanted to know how the inside looked. _

_The warlock felt his skepticism return. There was no way anyone would believe someone, even a sorcerer, was living in there. _

_He turned to Gwaine, who was still panting, his hands resting upon his knees. Surprisingly, the knight apparently hadn't enjoyed the experience of flying. He had been the last person Merlin thought wouldn't like riding Kilgharrah. _

"_You all right?" he asked his friend, concern edging into his voice past the amusement. _

_Gwaine peered at him from behind his brown locks. "I'll be fine. Just give me a minute." _

_Merlin nodded, his attention shifting to the door of the hut that started to very loudly creak open, revealing Percival. The boy was very grateful the doors in Camelot didn't creak that loud, otherwise he would've been dead a thousand times over until now. _

"_How does it look?" he asked the knight, who proceeded to give a vague shrug. _

"_Crammed and dirty?" Gwaine guessed, his voice still a bit hoarse, though he stood straight and walked slowly to them. _

"_Small and stinky" grinned Percival and Gwaine just smirked at him, running a hand through his hair. _

"_Right" Merlin let his backpack fall to the ground with a thud, clapping his hands together. "Better get this over with" _

_He closed his eyes and barely had the time to reach for his magic when a very familiar voice made him and both the knights turn around, his insides going cold. _

_"And what's this you're supposed to get over with?" _

_Five men, all of them bulky, sharp and deadly-looking weapons strapped to their belts (not counting the swords they all had already drawn) stood there at the edge of the clearing. _

_But they hadn't been the ones to speak. _

_Percival and Gwain unsheathed their own swords and gave to move in front of the warlock, but Merlin's voice stopped them. _

"_Get behind me" he hissed, his tone brooking no argument. It was that tone he only ever used with people who already knew how powerful he really was, and the fact that both Gwaine and Percival hesitated told him they were beginning to understand that. _

"_I believe we can handle this, Mer-" Gwaine's words died in his throat and Merlin could feel him stiffen. _

_The mercenaries had moved to make way for a hooded figure clad from head to toe in dark velvet. _

"_Well, well, well… If it isn't Arthur's ever faithful servant" Morgana lowered her hood and Percival swore under his breath. _

_Merlin would've been more surprised of the usually quiet knight's behaviour if he hadn't been to busy with staring at Morgana and trying to find a way out of this situation. He had never expected her to arrive here before he had time to change into Dragoon. _

_This could be a problem, he thought as he gritted his teeth. _

_Morgana smirked at them. _

"_Kill the knights. Leave the servant to me" _

_Merlin wasn't aware of how it happened. He didn't even have time to think. _

_They were five of them. Five bulky, huge, muscular mercenaries armed to the teeth. Percival and Gwaine were just two knights, and only had their swords. Without his help, even though they were the best Camelot could hope for (except for Arthur), they stood no chance of winning against this odds. And he had Morgana to take care of, someone he couldn't possibly beat without revealing his magic anyways. So he had nothing to lose. _

_Merlin didn't even have time to utter a spell. His magic reacted instinctively, his eyes glowing for a fleeting split of second before all of the men charging at them with roars of battle were sent backwards, slamming into the trees they had come from. _

_The warlock didn't know why he felt so relieved, for by all means he shouldn't. Not now that Morgana had found out the one thing he was supposed to keep away from her, not now that their problems amplified tenfold. But somehow, he couldn't yet bring himself to care. He knew it'll all sink in later, the fact that they were doomed. _

"_Stay back" Merlin told the two knights calmly, both Gwaine and Percival now backing away from him. _

_Morgana's face had morphed from utter and compete shock to into an indescribable expression, so much hatred in her eyes that he could see it rippling in the air around her. _

"_You _traitor_" she spat and her hand rose so fast he barely had time to put up a shield. _

"_All those years, all that time, you just watched me struggle. You did nothing!" Morgana threw spell after spell and Merlin felt his stomach twist, guilt washing over him wave after wave. He knew it was his fault, that he was the reason she had become like this, but to hear it from her… From Morgana herself… Like she still cared, even if the only thing she felt towards him was hatred… _

_It was a thousand times worst. _

"_You did noTHING!" she yelled and doubled over, panting, her eyes insane. _

_The warlock watched her. _

"_Morgana-" was all he managed to croak, before he choked in his own guilt. There was so much he wanted to say, all of it would be in vain. '_I wanted to help you. I wanted to tell you. I sent you to the druids. I did everything I could_' _

_Merlin knew they were all excuses. Excuses that couldn't raise the dead, couldn't mend the broken and couldn't stray her from her path. So he clamped his mouth shut and hardened his heart, focusing on the two knights, the two friends whose lives were in his hands. _

_The witch stood and, in a fit of rage, sent a wave of raw magic at him. _

_Merlin's eyes gleamed as time slowed to a crawl, Morgana's magic inching at a snail's pace through the air, all rippling energy, her hair suspended around her head. _

_The warlock felt a tear escape his eyes and he blinked the blurriness away. He needed to focus. _

_He allowed himself one second, doubling over and drawing a long breath in. _

_Then he stood straight and it was all he could not to gaze at Morgana, not to let the image of her register to his mind as he muttered words in the Old Language under his breath, finishing with a whispered "I'm sorry" _

_Then everything happened at once. _

_Time suddenly returned to normal, making Morgana's magic cover the distance to Merlin, Gwaine and Percival in less than a split of a second. Then there was a huge explosion of white as Emrys' raw energy collided with Morgana's, Gwaine and Percival covering their eyes even as they were sent soaring through the air by the blast. _

_Gwaine coughed and struggled to sit up, blinking his eyes. Merlin was standing with his arm outstretched, not a single hair out of place, as if the whole magical explosion that had resulted in him and Percival lying on the ground hadn't happened. _

_The two knights followed Merlin's gaze and they both gasped involuntarily, a grin spreading slowly onto Gwaine's face as they got up and walked stiffly to the warlock's side. _

"_Remember me not to get on your bad side, mate" _

_Morgana was lying on the ground, unconscious. _

"_She'll be back. We need to tell Arthur" was all Merlin said before he started roaring to the skies for Kilgharrah._

* * *

_ **So, this was it, the last flashback. **_

_**I promise, no matter how long the next chapter is, it will be the last... Although I might add a short epilogue. **_

_**Thank you for reading. **_

_**Also, I seem to be asked this a lot, so let me put this here so it's clear. This story is set somewhere after Gaius was kidnapped, around the Lamia episode. Before Lancelot coming back as a Shade though. **_

_**I know it's a bit confusing because Uther is still here, but I really just like this happening while he is still ruling (of sorts, because he's insane and all) so "The wicked day" never happened. **_

_**Oh, and I know I sometimes mix American English with British English, but that's because I'm not a native speaker. Sorry:) **_

_**I will update on Tuesday. Thank you for everything. **_

_**See you soon^^**_


	16. Chapter 16

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains. **

**Hello everyone. How're doing? **

**Okay, here i the supposedly last chapter. (I'm planning on an Epiloque:D) **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

Merlin considered himself to be quite a lucky person. In fact, he was pretty much ready to go as far as saying that he had _tones_ of luck stored somewhere inside him. He could even imagine it: an endless hall full of large chests overflowing luck.

Now, one might be tempted to tag words such as "whiner" to the young boy, given how much time he spent cursing his little army of luck. In this case, one would be right but for one little detail: all the luck Merlin had ever possessed tended to be _bad _luck.

He had only one wish. One wish. He wished for a day, a single day, when he could just take a break. A day when everything would go smoothly, perfectly. A day when the sun would shine and there would be no clouds on the clear blue sky, the birds would chirp, Arthur would give him a day off, that kind of day.

He would go out in the woods, practice some magic, make Kilgharrah give him a ride, go to the lake, relax, accompany Gwaine to the tavern then drag his sorry ass back home. Then he'd have a nice dinner with Gaius and would go to sleep happy and fulfilled, no impending doom or breakfast to deliver to a very arrogant and grumpy (as usually in the morning) prince.

No attacks on Camelot, no sorcerers or sorceress plotting to take the throne, no one trying to kill anyone.

He just wanted a day off: a day off his destiny as the most powerful warlock of all times, a day off from serving the Once and Future King, just… a day off.

A day when he didn't have to struggle to keep his head clear of the guilt threatening to drown him, of the sorrow of seeing one of his friends completely transformed, all the while trying to keep said ex-friend from killing him and, subsequently, all of his other friends.

A day when he wouldn't be holding back on his magic because he just couldn't bring himself, after all that time, to kill her.

In hindsight, thinking what he'd rather be doing instead of dodging and blocking attacks he could stop with a flick of his wrist wasn't the best thing he could be doing right then. _I should end this_, thought Merlin bitterly. He really should.

However, every time he drew a breath in and reached for his magic, ready to bring it all up and finish Morgana off, Merlin found that he always ended up letting it go. Instead, he thought the incantation and a blue shield appeared before him, just in time for a bright green ball of light the warlock had absolutely no idea what was supposed to do to collide with it.

Panting, Merlin decided to maintain the shield for a bit longer, enough to catch his breath.

He squeezed his eyes against Morgana's frustrated and mad roar, and tuned out the sound of her spells slowly breaking his shield. He rested his hands on his knees, finding it easier to breathe bent over like that.

The grass that had once been beneath his feet was gone, only the black remnants of the charred blades remaining. They reminded him of Morgana.

It's strange, really, how the smallest things can trigger something so much bigger, can bring such powerful revelations. For in that moment, staring at the black ash on the ground that had once been brilliant emerald blades of tall grass, Merlin finally gave up.

He knew he was never going to forget her, never going to forgive her or himself. He knew it would gnaw at his heart even when he'd be old and sick and dying, but it had to be done.

Merlin had always did what had to be done. Even if he didn't like it, he'd learned his lesson. Morgana was living proof that if he didn't do what needed to be done, things tended to take a turn for the worst.

And the young warlock knew that, however much he wanted to, he couldn't bring back the grass that was now ash. Nor could he ever hope the old Morgana to return.

His mind set and his heart already resigned, he spared Morgana one last glance.

Her hair was wild as it danced around her face, her cheekbones standing out and dark rings under her eyes. The dress stuck to her, layers upon layers of black lace and velvet, held together by also dark ribbons that coiled around her thin waist. Her hands were outstretched, light springing from the tips of her fingers, power rippling in the air around her. Morgana's eyes were bright, melted, insane gold.

She had grown in power so much. But he had, too.

Merlin turned his gaze away. And just like that, the last time he would ever look upon her as a friend was over.

He sought Arthur's gaze on the hill.

* * *

When Isaac had finally accepted that Emrys was real, and not a myth, a legend told by those loony old druids who could barely see and you had to literally shout in their ear for them to hear you, as soon as he had gotten over the shock, another round of incredulity swept over him.

The man was, first of all, young. Very, very young. He suspected Emrys wasn't more than a couple of years older than himself. And yet, he was supposed to be this amazingly wise and powerful warlock-the most powerful warlock to have ever and to ever walk the Earth, to be more precise.

Isaac was convinced of his power. After the overwhelming amount of raw magic he had felt coming from the young man, he could give him that. He was powerful.

But surely that man who he had seen pulling a practical joke (along with the guy with long hair-Glain was it?) on the future king of Camelot and then proceed to run around the camp from said king, only to finally be tackled to the ground and begin a very amusing battle of insults with him (the Once and Future King-another supposedly infinitely wise myth figure) couldn't be Emrys? Right?

The event had surely lifted their spirits. One didn't get to see the two most powerful men on the planet rolling in the dirt and declaring the other's stupidity in very (very!) inventive ways, now did they?

Isaac had been surprised. But then, then he had seen what Emrys could do, what he could say. He had seen the warlock say things and read in his eyes wisdom well beyond his age. And he had also seen King Arthur agree with his friends, treat druids with kindness and respect, devise very good strategies for their fast approaching battle.

After all the women (who didn't want to fight, for most of the druid girls _did _stay-druidettes were really scary and stubborn, actually) and children had been sent to another camp, they had started preparing, organizing everything.

The young druid had come to respect the two powerful friends, the prince and the warlock, who, along with Iseldir and a few elders, came up with the battle strategy.

And that first night he had learnt what had truly been occurring.

"_We were supposed to wait at the inn a couple of days, then return and tell my uncle we had found Emrys' hideout. And we did. We stayed there for two days, returned to Camelot, and I announced my uncle of our 'findings'" the prince told the druids, and at a nod from Iseldir, he continued. _

"_I told my uncle of this cottage, almost a day's ride from the citadel. I told him I'd gather my men and set out at first light the following morning. We never expected Morgana to be already there." _

_At this, Merlin threw his hands in the air exasperatedly. "I told them things were never going to work, but did they listen?" _

_The prince glared at the warlock, but otherwise ignored him and continued with a sigh. "Merlin fought her off, but he didn't have the time to disguise himself. We expect her to be back with Helios' small army of mercenaries. That is why we need your help." _

_Arthur threw a quick glance at Merlin, who pointedly avoided his gaze. He hadn't asked the warlock yet just why he didn't finish Morgana off, but Merlin knew it had been on the prince's mind since he had first told him the story of the fight. But he wouldn't-couldn't answer. Although he suspected the prince already knew. _

_Arthur straightened, looking into Iseldir's calm eyes. "We know druids are peaceful people, but we stand no chance without them." _

_The clan leader nodded. "We have given our word and our word shall we keep." _

Isaac hadn't exactly been eavesdropping that time, just after the little speech Artur Pendrahon and Emrys had given when they first came to their camp. Nope, he hadn't. He'd just so happened to have business with a rather large tree right next to the leader's tent.

After that, they had prepared for battle and rode to meet Morgana's army before they reached Camelot.

Of course, it had all went downhill from there, because one thing neither of them expected was the sorcerers the witch had somehow managed to get to fight for her on such short notice. Or maybe she had always had them on her side, just waiting for her to call on them.

Truth was they would never know, but the facts remained the same: they had been thoroughly unprepared to fight against such large numbers with magic on their side.

The young druid had briefly wondered, as he had left after (not) eavesdropping on the leaders, prince and warlock, why Emrys hadn't killed Morgana when he had the chance.

Later, when they were facing a seemingly endless army of furious mercenaries swinging axes over their heads as they ran towards them, and sorcerers clad in dark cloaks silently sending deadly bolts of colorful lights flying their way, the crimson dusk sky glowing above them, he had cursed Emrys for not dealing with this when he could. Because this could have been avoided.

But he didn't have any more chances to dwell on what could or couldn't have been, because the next thing he knew they were fighting.

Everywhere he looked: right, left, up, even down, he could see people fighting. Swords clashing against one another, men roaring with rage or shrieking with pain as blades slashed across their skin or impaled in their bodies; sorcerers screaming words in the slithering flow of the Old Language, bolts of lightning and both colorful and colorless energy striking all around him, everywhere, too fast for his eyes to see.

The smell of sweat, the smell of burnt flesh, the smell of fire. The coppery taste of blood in his mouth as he was sent back by a force he had not seen coming, his magic too limited and his spells too little, too slow.

The sharp, almost unbearable pain of his broken arm, the sting of the scratch on his cheek.

They were all dizzying him, making him sick.

Isaac spit out the blood in his mouth, forcing himself to look away as he felt his insides twisting. He cradled his left arm, trying not to scream at the touch of his own fingers, standing up on shaky feet.

His heart pounded in his chest, in his temples, in his ears. He looked up just in time to see a bolt of bright blue light come at him, straight at him, a blurred image of a grinning man behind it.

Isaac knew it was over for him. Suddenly, he was aware of his whole life, the whole universe around him, for just the split of a second.

And then he blinked against the pain that never came, and his eyes widened at the form of one of his friends jumping in front of the light and then falling on the ground at his feet like a rag doll. Ael hit the ground with a loud thump and remained there, unmoving, a thick tendril of smoke rising from his clothes.

At that moment all the dizziness disappeared as Isaac could only stare at the body of his childhood friend, the man he had known for all of his life and had laughed with, the man whom he had told about his first crush and he'd played chess with, trained with and ate with.

The sounds of the battle no longer roared too loud in his ears, the smell of blood no longer made him nauseous. His broken arm no longer scared him.

He felt like someone had splashed ice cold water on his face and his insides burned with rage, his eyes prickling with it as the first tears fell of their own accord.

He raised his gaze, Ael's murderer already muttering another spell.

As Isaac raised his arm, his magic running to his eyes like electricity, coiling around his fingers ready to be used, the sorcerer who was ready to strike him suddenly gasped, his incantation dying on his lips.

The tip of a silver sword protruded from his chest.

There was a slashing sound as the blade disappeared, the cloaked man falling limply to the ground, revealing an armor clad knight.

The knight grinned.

"You okay there, kiddo?"

Isaac blinked back the tears, too shocked to even feel the rage. It was happening too fast, everything was.

He recognized the knight. It was the one with long hair, the one Emrys had pulled the prank on the prince with. Glain. Gain. Grein. Something like that.

Isaac nodded. Then his eyes widened and he shouted "Look out!" even as he pulled on his magic, throwing it with all of his might in the spell that sent the mercenary behind the Camelot knight flying back.

"_Astrice_!"

The knight looked back at the mercenaries, then turned to Isaac.

"Thanks" he grinned again as he turned around to clash swords with another mercenary who had found his way to them.

The young druid bent over, regaining his breath. He had put a lot of magic into that spell, even managing to knock or possibly kill the man. He needed a breather.

Isaac raised his gaze, determined to be of some use for once, and pulled on his weak magic, enough to trip Glain's adversary. And then he continued to do just that, tripping and slipping every foe the other man fought. Discarded swords, helmets, or rocks also found their way to the knight's foes.

He didn't know how long in went like this, man after man falling under his small tricks and Glain's sharp blade.

Isaac only knew that at one point there was a break, no incoming hulk of a man running towards them, and the knight had turned to ask him if he was alright.

And then Glain (he really hoped that was his name) looked around, seemingly searching for something. His eyes scanned the hill for a couple of seconds before he stiffened.

"Go hide in the trees" he ordered, and Isaac stared at him as he suddenly charged uphill, not even glancing back at the druid.

He gave to shout in warning as a rather large thug cut Glain's path, but the knight easily dealt with him, continuing on his way.

Isaac frowned and squinted his eyes in the distance, where the Camelot knight was headed.

And then he saw it: the moving figure of Emrys fighting Morgana.

The young boy gritted his teeth. He wasn't going to be useless anymore. He started to run after the knight.

* * *

Arthur cursed his lack of attention. How could he let his whole focus on Merlin and his sister, the thought of someone sneaking up on him not even crossing his mind?

The prince threw himself to the ground, avoiding being struck down for the seventh or maybe eighth time by Aravaine's sword.

He quickly scanned the ground. His sword lay on the grass at an even longer distance away now. Useless.

Arthur had no time to curse as he suddenly found his view of the sword blocked by his uncle's body, Agravaine's own sword raised above the prince and ready to strike.

"Goodbye, _dear nephew_" he spat, and Arthur didn't honestly know if he was going to have time to duck.

And then his gaze jumped in the direction of a loud and urgent "Arthur!" and he saw the sword, Gwaine's sword, soaring towards him through the air.

The prince reached out with his hand, instinct taking over, only to suffer a shock as Agravaine's hand caught the blade by the hilt before it reached him.

Arthur couldn't believe his luck. Despite the dire situation, he sent a desperate and very angry glare at his knight, silently letting him know that he was coming back to haunt him as a ghost. The prince caught a glimpse of Gwaine's face losing all color, before his gaze and attention returned to the situation at hand.

He heard his uncle chuckle and his eyes shut closed of their own accord as he imagined the swords coming down.

There was a sharp and short cry and Arthur waited, the seconds ticking by as no sword impaled itself in his body.

Slowly, almost not daring to hope (he was actually getting used to this, it was the third time in ten minutes that he was nearly killed) he opened his eyes.

He could see Gwaine some feet away, staring in shock and adoration somewhere to his left.

The prince followed his gaze to where a young, skinny druid was resting on the charred grass on his knees, his tired eyes glancing his way and his had outstretched. The worn cloak clung to his shoulders and Arthur could see the sweat trickling down his forehead from where he sat.

He nodded to the boy in gratitude, the druid's hand slowly lowering to the ground, Gwaine now clapping him on the back and helping him to his feet.

Arthur turned around, spotting his uncled twitching back into consciousness on the ground not very far away.

A sudden rush of anger-powered adrenaline gave him enough energy to rush to his feet, ignoring all the pain in his body, and the future king of Camelot retrieved his sword from the ground and walked to stand looming over his uncle's from.

Agravaine opened his eyes, his pupils dilating as he realized there was the tip of a sword only inches from his face, a raging and unwavering Arthur at the end of it.

He opened his mouth to plead with his nephew, but Arthur had already decided.

_Agravaine playing with him as a child; A__gravaine laughing at a feast with his father; __Agravaine teaching him how to hold a sword and ruffling his golden hair. _

The prince pushed the blade forward and it slid easily into his uncles chest.

_His uncle crying over his mother's grave; his uncle telling him he'd visit soon; even though he wouldn't; his uncle riding a horse, his cloak bellowing in the wind_.

Agravaine stared at him, his mouth a perfect shocked oval. The prince ignored the twisting knot in his chest and drew back the sword, turning away from the already gone-limp body of his uncle, never to look upon again.

"You okay?"

Arthur raised his gaze to the hesitant and soft voice, suddenly very tired. Gwaine was supporting the young druid, one of his arms draped across his shoulders while the knight's own arm was circling his thin waist.

The prince nodded tiredly.

"Thank you" he said, his voice hoarse. "Both of you"

His eyes then sought the brother he had never had. Arthur's blue gaze landed on the warlock at the exact same time that Merlin's golden one locked onto him.

A silent question was asked as those golden orbs faded to a grim blue, Merlin's posture stiff and resigned.

Arthur's cerulean eyes never left his friend's sapphire ones. A rage of white and colorful lights and bolts clashed against a weakening blue shield behind him, Merlin standing still waiting for the prince's answer. His jacket was torn and caked with mud, as were his trousers and the formerly red tunic underneath. There was dirt tangled in his tousled hair, too, and blood mixed with dust painted his face in the colors of war.

Arthur stole a look behind the shield at Morgana. And after what seemed like and eternity, he gave the smallest of nods, his head only moving imperceptibly, but enough for the warlock to see the movement.

Merlin turned his back to him. He would've understood even without the nod, for Arthur's eyes told him all he needed to know.

A loud shriek and a lightning-fast shadow passing over them drew Arthur's, Gwaine's and Isaac's attention, and they turned their heads just in time to see a huge dragon breathe flames over their enemies.

The prince felt relief flooding him. It was over.

* * *

Merlin turned his back on the prince. Arthur's eyes had told him all he needed to know.

He had felt Kilgharrah's presence, and now he could hear him shriek loudly. He trusted the dragon to do his job. (Even though it had taken him enough time to get here-he made a mental note to order the dragon never to leave that far away again, for something like _this_ could happen)

Merlin's eyes flashed gold and suddenly the shield was gone. One of the spells that had already been charging towards him at lightning speed was deflected to the side at the flick of his wrist.

Morgana seemed taken aback as he started to walk towards her, his eyes shining the most brilliant and pure gold.

"It's over, Morgana. I'm sorry" he said, even as his words felt empty to his ears. He had to distance himself from this, or he'd never be able to do it.

"NO" she yelled, beginning to scream another long incantation.

Suddenly, the sky darkened even more, the few stars that had started to show disappearing as clouds seemed to appear out of nowhere, twirling madly over the two of them.

The wind picked up, howling and swirling around them in circles, Morgana halting in her spell, looking around her with a small flicker of worry flashing across her face for the first time.

She then glanced at Merlin and took and involuntary step back.

The lanky boy stood tall and still among the sudden chaos, the wind seeming to sweep through him, leaving him untouched. His form was as dark as the sky above them, shadowed by the clouds, the only things she could make out being his brilliant golden orbs, shining fiercely and steadily against everything.

Electricity crackled around his fingers as they twitched, and Merlin rose his hand.

Then his magic surged, lunging with all its power at the witch before him, a white blast of lightning and pure energy striking her down, her screams drowning in the storm.

And then it was over. Merlin felt the exact moment he had killed her, his hands falling to his sides and the clouds slowly dissipating, the wind dying down.

He felt light-headed, his knees buckling from the exhaustion and he fell.

Merlin was caught by two strong arms, the sad eyes of his friend looking down at him with a miniature storm of emotions raging beyond their blue.

The boy felt the moment his eyes finally faded to blue, too.

"You did it" Arthur said, helping his friend up, his arms supporting him. Merlin felt too weak to protest that he could stand on his own, knowing fully well that at this point he couldn't, even if he wanted to.

Instead, he let himself lean on Arthur, the other man having wrapped a hand under his shoulders.

They turned quietly to the battlefield, the dragon still circling it furiously, but the actual battle seemed to be over.

Merlin could see the citadel somewhere far in the distance, and a pang of an indescribable emotion rang through his body. At least they had avoided having this fight there.

He wasn't a fool. He knew that, even if Morgana was gone, there were plenty of others who would come in her name, to avenge her, or to continue her work. He knew this war wasn't over.

But this battle was. And for better or for worse, they had won.

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**Hope you liked it and thank you for sticking with this story. You are all amazing and brilliant and fantastic:) **

**There will be an epilogue posted here in three days' time, as usual. This has been most fun to write and I already have plans for another story, that will be a oneshot with possible sequels. **

**Also, I might write a sequel for this one, though I'm not sure yet. What do you think, should I? **

**Anyway, thank you all very much and see you in three days^^ **


	17. Epilogue

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this story but the story itself and the anonymous villains. **

**Hello. This is it, the last update on this story. **

**Here is the promised epilogue and I hope you like it:) **

**Enjoy! **

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"_Cunnan þu ábeþecest éadnes_" the druid chieftain murmured, his white hair blowing in the breeze. Even though his voice was low, his words echoed clearly throughout the packed clearing, his midnight blue cloak billowing behind him as the wind picked up.

It was nearly dawn and the darkness was beginning to break into light, but it wasn't enough yet for Merlin to make out more than the shadowy shapes of the many figures that stood there, still and quiet as the trees surrounding them.

The silence felt almost alive, prickling at his skin, as Iseldir finally raised his right hand, ever so slowly.

They were standing in the clearing right next to the lake of Avalon, and Merlin felt very aware of that fact. It seemed to make the grim atmosphere even grimmer, knowing that he was so close to the place where he had laid Freya to rest, and where all the druids that had fought and died for them and for Albion would find their peace, too.

He stole a glance at Arthur. The future king was still dressed in his chain mail that was dirty with dried blood and mud, but had left the heavy armor in a pile somewhere at the edge of the clearing, like the rest of the knights did. The prince's face looked composed, some would say even emotionless, but Merlin could see the sadness, the guilt, in the thin line of his pressed lips and the slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

The warlock directed his gaze back at the back of the chieftain's head. He was close enough to the man to hear a whispered "_Forbearnan_" pass his lips.

And then the clearing suddenly exploded into a golden light as the pyre surrounded by dirty, tired druids and knights seemed to catch fire all of its own.

The murmurs of the crowd seemed to erupt from nowhere in particular, and soon enough everyone was whispering the same silent prayer, over and over again.

Merlin joined in, muttering with respect "_Cunnan þu ábeþecest éadnes_"

He could hear Arthur repeating the words along with the druids, as he could the knights behind him, even though their pronunciation was a little off.

But who cared about pronunciation anyway? Merlin had taught them the words earlier, as they were helping with creating the pyre and gathering the bodies.

They watched as the flames danced, chanting all the time. Even though he could barely stand, even though he felt tired and sore and his eyelids seemed to drift closed every time his attention strayed too much into the blazing fire, he stood there, his mouth forming the words.

At one point he almost fell, his knees buckling slightly, but a hand was around his shoulder faster than the blink of an eye.

Merlin threw Arthur a grateful look and the prince just nodded, only releasing his friend after making sure that the warlock could stand without falling.

He could feel the prince's concerned gaze on him watching him carefully after that.

As the flames grew smaller, the sun rose higher.

They stood there until the pyre turned to nothing more than ashes and the only remnant of the brilliant flames was a lone streak of black smoke.

Then the crowd dispersed, the druids starting to move and stretch. Merlin turned to the other knights.

Percival, Leon and Elyan looked dead on their feet, their chain mail as dirty as all of their clothes. He didn't want to think what he himself looked like. Now, in full daylight, everyone seemed to look even worse.

Arthur too looked like the living dead, although the prince was managing to keep up the appearance of a proud, royal soldier. (or, as merlin liked to put it, arrogant prat)

Only Gwaine seemed cheerful and energetic, the dirt and blood on his face and the rings under his eyes contrasting with his loud tone and happy skipping around, as he blabbered on about God-knew-what to his new friend, the one that had apparently saved Arthur. (Isaac was it?)

These days, the question was who _didn't_ save Arthur.

Iseldir approached the group, the reigns of a horse in his hands and the animal trudging after him. The chieftain handed the reigns to Arthur.

"Thank you"

Iseldir smiled and shook his head. "I am only sorry you cannot stay and rest with us."

Merlin gave a small smile. "Thanks, but we've been missing for a while and the last thing we need is a search party coming and finding you here."

"Merlin is-" Arthur began and threw a warning glance at the warlock, muttering something along the lines of "and I can't believe I'm saying this" under his breath, "-right. We cannot delay any longer. But we are forever indebted to you and I promise we will meet again. I will come and we shall see how the problem of magic can be solved. You will not leave in fear for much longer, that I swear"

Iseldir smiled and bowed.

"I bide you good luck and should you need anything, you are always welcomed." He threw Merlin a knowing look. "I trust Emrys here knows how to find us."

Merlin nodded.

Iseldir turned and started walking away towards his people.

"That's it then, let's go" Arthur said and mounted his horse, while Merlin and the rest mounted theirs.

Only Gwaine took longer, giving Isaac one last powerful pat on the shoulder (the boy visibly winced, not that Gwaine would notice) throwing him one of his charming smiles.

"Well the, see you later, mate. And do think about that job, will you? I'm sure Arthur wouldn't mind having one of you in the palace once we've settled everything, eh?"

The young druid smiled heartedly at his new friend. "I promise. Have a good journey"

Isaac bowed at the prince and started walking towards his people, turning to wave happily at them with his uninjured hand.

"Some long journey we've got ahead of us, right?" said Gwaine and gave a very loud laugh that made all of the tired knights (plus manservant) wince, then started trotting towards the visible peaks of Camelot.

They followed in silence, even Arthur too exhausted to threaten Gwaine more than once to stop his whistling.

Finally, after about an hour or so, they reached the walls of the citadel.

Merlin saw the guards flinch and their eyes widening as Arthur led them past the gates, and had to wonder if they really looked that bad.

He looked around and noticed other people staring, too. He realized they must've looked worse than he thought, but frankly he couldn't find it in his heart to care.

He dismounted in front of the stables. Servants hurried to take the prince's and knights' horses away, gaping openly at them, and Arthur even had one servant take Merlin's horse. Not one of them was in any fit state to do anything besides sleep right now, and the warlock knew that was probably what all of them were going to do. Anything else could wait.

They stood there in a circle in front of the stables, covered in dirt and blood, exhausted and sore, and looked at each other for a couple of minutes.

So much had changed since that day a month ago, Merlin could hardly wrap his brain around it. Never had he imagined he's be standing here, all of the knights of the round table aware of his magic, all of them having fought in the same war against Morgana alongside magic and aided by magic.

A war nobody knew about. Every servant, courtier, knight, commoner, ever person who passed them by or didn't, every soul living in the city had absolutely no idea how close they had come to oblivion.

They had no idea of the war they had fought for them.

Most of them probably thought the knights and prince had gone on a hunting trip that had gone wrong. Some, who were aware of their fake cover story, thought they had found the mysterious sorcerer Emrys and dealt with him.

None of them had any idea.

But they knew.

Elyan, Percival, Gwaine, Leon, Arthur and Merlin knew.

The six friends broke into identical knowing grins at the same time and stood there, smiling like idiots at one another, for a full minute. There would be now grand feast to celebrate their victory, but they didn't need one. They had one another.

Gwaine was the one who broke the circle, heading off with a wave and an "Well, I'm off. don't expect me at training tomorrow, though" The rest of them followed with a snort and a shake of their heads, walking towards their respective beds.

Arthur lingered a moment longer, enough to put a tired hand on the warlock's shoulder.

"Merlin" he announced.

"Yeah?"

Prince and warlock locked blue gazes for a long second, in which a silent conversation was carried.

"You need to clean my armor" he finally said.

Merlin grinned and muttered "Prat" before they went straight for their beds.

The boy walked into the Court Physician's chambers, ignoring the looks he received, and silently thanked the gods Gaius wasn't there. He then promptly slumped into his bed face down and closed his eyes.

He fell asleep instantly, with a smile on his face. The air felt like a very beautiful and fresh beginning.

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**I cannot believe I have finished this story. I feel so good and so sad at the same time. **

**I'd like tot hank all of you for your support and for reading my words. You all mean more to me than you can imagine. **

**What else is there to say? Thank you again. Thank you:) **

**Oh, and if the translator I used is correct, then "_Cunnan þu ábeþecest éadnes_" should mean "May you find peace" **

**I guess I'll see you in the next story. **

**Bye, for now^^ **


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